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A   LOOK   ON 
THE  BRIGHTER  SIDE 


By 
W.   R.  Rutherford 


SAN  JOSE 

iHcltjin,  |)illifi;  Si  ^Slacfe 
CALIFORNIA 


PREFACE 


HIS  book  is  a  compilation  of  some  of 
the  articles  which  have  since  the  first 
of  June,  1903,  appeared  semi- weekly 
in  the  San  Jose  Daily  Mercury  under 
the    heading    which    stands    as   the 
title  of  this  volume.     It  is  put  forth 
at  the  urgent  request  of  a  number  of 
readers,  who  have  desired  the  author  to   embody   the 
best  of  these  articles  in  a  small  book  suitable  for  a  Christ- 
mas gift. 

The  department  was  undertaken  at  the  suggestion  of 
the  Managing  Editor  of  the  Mercury,  Mr.  E.  K.  John- 
ston, and  while  the  venture  has  been  very  favorably  re- 
ceived the  author  feels  it  would  be  ungrateful  not  to  ac- 
cede to  the  request  of  the  friends  who  have  asked  that 
these  more  or  less  fugitive  pieces  should  be  brought  to- 
gether in  permanent  form,  to  enable  them  to  preserve 
and  to  pass  on  to  others  the  sources  of  the  pleasure 
which  a  great  many  have  been  kind  enough  to  say  they 
have  experienced  in  reading  them  from  time  to  time. 
Whether  it  was  wise  or  not  to  heed  the  demand  thus 
presented,  must  be  left  for  the  readers  to  determine. 

The  articles  are  not  all  original.  They  have  contained 
frequent  quotations  of  appropriate  little  poems  and  other 


writings,  appearing  in  magazines,  newspapers,  and 
books,  and  in  some  cases  offered  by  the  composers  of 
the  lines  themselves.  Credit  has  generally  been  given 
where  such  quotations  have  been  used,  except  when  the 
author  is  unknown,  or  desires  not  to  be  mentioned.  No 
apology  is  deemed  necessary  for  the  repetition  of  some 
of  them  in  this  collection. 

Such  as  it  is,  the  little  volume  goes  forth  with  the  sin- 
cerest  wishes  of  its  author  that  through  it  many  may  be 
helped  to  take  A  Look  on  the  Brighter  Side. 

W.  R.  Rutherford. 
San  Jose,  Cal.,  Nov.  12,  1904. 


19?845 


True   Optimism 


WHY  are  you  an  optimist?"  The  question  was 
sent  to  a  number  of  well  known  men  and  women 
by  an  American  paper  not  long  ago.  The  fol- 
lowing story  is  given  by  the  Dublin  Christian  Advocate 
of  the  answer  written  by  Mrs.  Alice  Palmer  Freeman,  and 
there  is  so  much  suggestiveness  in  it  for  those  who  would 
be  optimists,  but  are  perhaps  taking  the  wrong  way  about 
it  by  going  to  one  or  other  of  the  extremes  mentioned, 
that  I  think  it  will  do  us  all  good  to  have  it  here  retold: 

*'My  training  as  the  child  of  a  country  doctor,"  says 
Mrs.  Freeman,  "in  a  home  where  the  daily  interests  of 
every  member  of  the  family  centered  in  caring  for  the 
sick,  the  poor,  the  aged — where  everybody  brought  his 
needs  and  his  anxieties — this  was  the  true  training  for 
an  optimist.  For  no  one  can  be  permanently  helpful  who 
merely  looks  on  a  life,  criticising  those  who  work.  To 
see  clearly  the  tragedies,  and  to  spend  self  in  trying  to 
save,  makes  an  optimist." 

"Perhaps,"  runs  the  Dublin  paper's  comment,  "the  se- 
cret of  optimism  was  never  better  revealed  than  in  that 
last  sentence.  The  true  optimists  of  life  are  not  always 
those  who  have  always  'had  things  easy'  and  know  noth- 
ing of  care  or  trouble;  neither  are  they  the  ones  who 
resolutely  refuse  to  acknowledge  the  presence  of  sin  and 
sorrow.  They  are  those  who  determine  to  meet  facts 
honestly  and  can  give  themselves  eagerly,  untiringly,  to 
fighting  the  sin  and  lessening  the  sorrow  and  the  pain. 
Only  he  w^ho  has  given  himself  to  a  cause  knows  all  the 
allies  of  that  cause.  He  who  has  devoted  himself  to  the 
mighty  work  of  advancing  God's  kingdom  of  righteous- 
ness sees,  as  others  cannot,  a  thousand  signs  of  hope  and 
cheer  in  the  unlikeliest  places.  Pessimism  may  indicate 
many  things,  but  one  thing  at  least  it  never  fails  to  re- 
veal— that  the  pessimist  is  not  spending  himself  in  trying 
to  make  the  world  better." 


If  we  would  not  incur  the  imputation  of  idleness  in  the 
cause  of  the  world's  bettering,  then,  let  us  close  our 
lips  ere  they  allow  to  slip  out  a  single  word  of  gloomy 
doubt  or  pessimism;  let  us  rather  follow  the  line  laid 
down  by  E.  H.  Shannon,  the  author  of  these  lines  reprinted 
in  the  Boston  Budget  from  the  Christian  Advocate: 


Do  It  Now 


Have   you   any   cheering  greeting? 

Tell   it   out   today; 
While   you   wait   the   friend   and   message 

May    have    gone    away. 

Let  the  one  who  sighs  for  comfort 

Feel   a  hand-grasp   true; 
It  will  cheer  the  way,   and  surely 

Can't   impoverish  you. 

We    are    all    the    time    regretting 

When   it   is   too   late, 
And    some    heavy    heart    has    broken 

While  we  hesitate. 

Lives  are  human,   though  so  often 

We    disguise    our   pain; 
Some    are    hungering   for   your   comfort, 

Give   and    give    again. 


Carpe  Diem 


PROBABLY  all  of  us  have  realized  the  truth  in  the 
old  saying  that  there  is  no  use  in  crossing  a  bridge 
before  we  come  to  it.  How  slow  we  are  neverthe- 
less to  learn  from  our  own  experience,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  accumulated  experience  of  millions  of  wiser  heads 
who  have  learned  it  before  us,  that  half  of  the  woes  we 
dread  do  not  come  upon  us  at  all.  How  much  wiser  it 
would  be  to  take  things  as  we  find  them,  making  the 
most  of  the  present,  with  a  viev/  also  to  building  most 
wnsely  for  the  future. 

''Our  to-days  and  yesterdays,"  says  Longfellow,  ''are 
the  blocks  with  which  we  build,"  and  he  counsels  us  to 

Build   to-day,    then,    strong   and   sure, 

With   a   firm   and  ample   base; 
So   ascending   and   secure 

Shall   to-morrow   find   its   place. 

If  we  do  this  day  by  day  there  is  no  need  to  worry 
over  the  future.  "The  morrow  shall  take  thought  for  the 
things  of  itself,"  and  the  wisest  of  counselors.  "Suffi- 
cient unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof."  We  often,  I  think, 
misunderstand  those  words.  We  think  they  mean  "the 
morrow  will  have  sufficient  troubles  of  its  own,"  and 
so  we  look  for  "sufficient,"  which  we  interpret  to  mean 
"many"  troubles,  and  are  consequently  always  appre- 
hensive, anticipating  trouble,  crossing  bridges  that  dis- 
appear when  we  come  to  them.  The  real  meaning  of 
the  great  Teacher's  utterance  is  that  "sufficient  unto  the 
day,"  that  is,  the  present  day,,  "is  the  evil  thereof,"  that 
is,  of  this  present  day;  we  ought  not  to  make  this  day  heavy 
with  anticipated  burdens,  which  so  often  prove  imaginary. 

It  may  be  said,  "What  is  the  use  of  hammering  away 
at  a  habit  that  is  ingrained  in  human  nature?  You  don't 
surely  expect  to  get  people  to  stop  worrying  about  the 
future."  No,  not  all  people.  But  "constant  dropping 
wears    away   the   stone,"   and   if   in   these   "looks    on   the 


brighter  side"  we  are  able  to  help  one,  or  two,  or  a  few 
persons  among  our  readers  to  a  brighter  outlook  on  life, 
and  consequently  to  a  brighter  and  better  living  of  life, 
then  the  purpose  of  these  articles  is  served. 

The  surest  way  to  make  life  happy  and  true  and 
beautiful  is  to  make  the  most  of  each  day  as  it  passes. 
I  cannot  do  better  than  give  Mary  Lowe  Dickinson's 
words    on    this    thought: 

We  should  fill  the  hours  with  the  sweetest  things, 

If   we   had   but   a   day; 
We   should   drink   alone   at   the   purest   springs 

In   our  upward  way; 
We  should  love  with  a  lifetime's  love  in  an  hour 

If  the  hours  were  few; 
We  should  rest,  not  for  dreams,  but  for  fresher  power, 

To  be  and  to  do. 

We  should  guide  our  wayward  or  wearied  wills 

By   the   clearest   light; 
We  should  keep  our  eyes  on  the  heavenly  hills, 

If   they    lay   in   sight; 

We  should  trample  the  pride  and  the  discontent 
Beneath   our   feet; 

We   should   take   whatever  a  good   God   sent. 
With  a  trust  complete. 

We   should   waste   no   moments   in   weak   regret, 

If   the   day   were   but   one; 
If   what   we   remember   and   what   we   forget 

Went  out  with  the  sun; 

We  should  be  from  our  clamorous  selves  set  free, 

To   work   or   to   pray. 
And  to  be  what  the  Father  would  have  us  be, 

If  we  had  but  a  day. 

And  which  one  of  us  dare  say  that  he,  or  she,  has 
more.  To-day  is  ours;  of  to-morrow  we  can  say  only 
that  it  may  be  ours.  We  in  that  sense  therefore  have  but 
a  day. 


Pass  It  On 


PROBABLY  all  of  us  in  our  school  days  have  played 
the  little  game  called  ''pass  it  on";  usually,  no  doubt, 
it  was  in  the  form  of  a  sly  punch  of  our  neighbor. 
But  there  is  a  game  of  "pass  it  on"  which  we  may  and  should 
all  play.  It  is  this  that  the  New  York  Tribune  Sunshine 
Society  has  adopted  as  its  motto  for  its  doctrine  of  good 
cheer.  Henry  Burton  has  written  a  beautiful  song  upon 
this   theme,   the   first   stanza   of  which   runs: 

Have  you  had  a  kindness  shown? 

Pass   it   on. 
'Twas  not  given  for  you  alone — 

Pass   it   on. 
Let  it  travel  down  the  years, 
Let  it  wipe  another's  tears, 
Till   in  heaven  the  deed  appears — 

Pass   it   on. 

How  many  of  us,  I  wonder,  take  the  trouble,  even 
occasionally,  not  to  say  habitually,  to  think  of  this,  that 
the  many  kindnesses  we  are  every  day  receiving  lay  us 
under  the  obligation  to  pass  them  on.  And  yet  if  we  do 
not  pass  them  on  to  our  neighbors,  what  selfish  creatures 
we  become!  all  the  time  benefited  by  relatives,  by  friends, 
by  acquaintances,  even  by  utter  strangers,  and  still  giving 
out  little  or  nothing  to  those  about  us.  What  a  sponge- 
existence!  And  after  all,  how  near  to  it  we  are  in  danger 
of  coming  if  we  do  not  pause  once  in  a  while  to  think 
of  our  obligations  to  pass  on  to  others  the  kindness 
shown  to  us. 

We  meet  a  friend,  and  are  saluted  with  a  "Good 
morning,"  or  friendly  inquiry  after  our  health.  How  few 
the  people  who  reply  to  such  with  a  studied  courtesy 
by  a  similar  regard  for  the  welfare  of  their  friends.  Yet 
is  this  not  a  part  of  politeness  and  good  manners,  to  say 
nothing  of  kindness?  We  are  so  prone  to  think  of  what 
we  are  thinking  of  saying  rather  than  of  what  has  been 
said  to  us.     But  when  one  does  in  this  kindly  way  recip- 


rocate  fully  the  salutation,  how  it  strikes  us  as  not  by 
any  means  superfluous,  but  just  the  right  thing,  the  thing 
that  ought  to  be  said. 

How  many  favors  we  receive  from  one  and  another 
through  the  day's  long  hours,  and  how  many  opportuni- 
ties we  have  of  passing  them  on.  If  in  a  responsive  mood, 
looking  for  chances  to  do  some  one  a  good  turn,  we  shall 
find  many  a  time  when  a  deed  may  be  done,  or  a  word 
said,  that  will  help  some  one  else  just  as  we  ourselves 
have  been  helped,  perhaps  not  half  an  hour  before. 

The  receiver  of  a  benefit  is  made  happy.  But  when 
he  himself  confers  a  benefit  upon  another  in  the  right 
spirit,  he  feels  even  happier.  In  this,  as  in  other  ex- 
periences, the  truth  of  the  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  re- 
corded by  Paul,  are  realized:  "It  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive."  How  slow  we  are  to  learn  that  lesson! 
How  we  go  on  trying  to  get  happiness,  by  getting  things, 
trying  to  have  things  given  to  us,  and  always  failing  of 
satisfaction.  It  will  always  be  so.  Whereas,  if  we  would 
follow  the  other  rule,  and  give  more,  we  should  enjoy 
more.  The  way  to  get  happiness  is  not  to  seek  it.  Seek 
rather  to  do  the  duty  that  lies  at  hand  fully,  faithfully, 
fearlessly,  give  happiness  to  others,  and  then  happiness 
will  come  itself  unsought  for. 

Pass  on  then  the  kindness  shown;  ''scatter  seeds  of 
kindness  for  our  reaping  by  and  by";  "cast  thy  bread 
upon  the  waters,  and  thou  shalt  find  it,"  even  if  "after 
many  days."  Every  deed  and  word  thus  shown  shall 
bear  its  harvest,  and  the  kindness  will  surely,  in  this 
life  or  in  the   other,   yet   return  to   you. 


What  Is  Your  Life  ? 


LIFE  is  as  we  make  it.  The  one  who  thinks  of  life 
as  a  burden  and  a  troublesome  condition  in  which 
he  finds  himself  comes  before  long  to  find  it  even 
SO"  the  one  who  looks  for  beauty  and  cheer  finds  his 
heart's  content  of  them.  I  like  to  take  comfort  in  the 
thought  that  it  is  not  given  to  many  people  to  say  much 
that  is  original,,  so  I  may  be  pardoned  for  so  often 
quoting  the  words  of  others;  for  they  fit  in,  and  if  what 
is  worth  repeating  can  be  put  in  a  new  setting  it  some- 
times gains  added  value. 

The  following  poem  was  written  by  S.  E.  Kiser,  the 
thoughtful  and  ready  author  of  many  little  gems  printed 
in   the   Chicago   Record-Herald.      It   runs: 

To   the   preacher   life's   a   sermon, 

To  the  joker  it's   a  jest; 
To   the   miser   life   is   money, 

To   the   loafer   life   is   rest. 

To   the   lawyer  life's   a   trial. 

To    the    poet    life's    a    song; 
To   the   doctor   life's   a   patient 

That   needs   treatment  right   along. 

To  the  soldier  life's  a  battle, 
To    the    teacher   life's   a   school; 

Life's   a   "good   thing"   to   the  grafter, 
It's   a  failure   to   the   fool. 

To  the  man  upon  the  engine 
Life's    a   long   and    heavy    grade; 

It's  a  gamble  to  the  gambler. 
To   the  merchant  life's   a  trade. 

Life's   a  picture   to   the   artist. 

To   the   rascal   life's   a  fraud; 
Life    perhaps    is    but    a    burden 

To    the    man    beneath    the    hod. 

Life   is   lovely   to   the   lover. 

To    the    player    life's    a    play; 
Life  may  be  a  load  of  trouble 

To   the  man  upon   the   dray. 

Life  is  but  a  long  vacation 
To  the  man  who  loves  his  work; 

Life's  an  everlasting  effort 
To    shun   duty    to   the   shirk. 

To   the   heaven- blest  romancer 

Life's    a   story    ever   new; 
Life   is   what  we   try   to   make  it — 

Brother,  what  is  4ife  to  you? 


If  it  is  true,  and  to  a  very  great  degree  it  is  perfectly 
true,  that  life  is  what  we  choose  to  make  it,  every  human 
being  is  bound  to  face  the  question  of  what  he  is  going 
to  make  of  his  life.  He  may  have  great  plans,  lofty 
ideals,  and  in  face  of  them  he  may  at  times  be  tempted 
to  sit  down  and  in  utter  helplessness  say  that  the  task 
is  too  great.  But  such  a  one  ought  to  take  to  heart  the 
fact  that  the  mightiest  forces  and  powers,  the  greatest 
things  in  the  world  both  of  nature  and  of  art  are  but  the 
accumulation  of  little  things.  ''Great  things  were  ne'er 
begotten  in  an  hour" — whatever  is  great  has  grown  to 
be  so  by  innumerable  little  accretions.  A  life  is  what 
we  make  of  its  days  and  its  hours.  Elwyn  Hoffman 
wrote  a  good  thing  along  that  line  of  thought,  which 
appeared  in  Sunset: 

I  sit  and  ponder.     At  my  door  appears 
The  little  Hour  that  builds  the  mighty  Years. 
It  loudly  knocks,  and  calls  to  me  its  need; 
"Wake,  dreamer,  wake;  and  give  to  me  a  deed! 
I  build  the  Years.     If  thou  wouldst  have  them  fair, 
Aid  as  thou  canst,  though  small  may  be  thy  share, 
I  build  the  Years.     O  wise  is  he  that  heeds, 
And  makes  my  building  good  by  giving  deeds!" 

I  sit  and  ponder.     Aye,  the  voice  is  true — 

Why   ponder   longer?     'Tis    the    time    to    do! 

A   noble   castle   wouldst   thou   build   thee,    man  ? 

Then   heed   the   small   Hour — 'tis    thy   artisan! 

From  strugghng  mite  unto  the  Godhead,   lo! 

The   Hour   shall   build   thee   all   that   thou    shalt   know. 

Heed   well   the   Hour's   voice — 'tis   a   living   Seer's: 

"I  build  the  Years!     O  man!     I  build  the  Years!" 


Cheeriness 


WHAT  a  beautiful  day!"  How  often  we  hear  it 
said,  and  how  true  it  is.  And  is  it  not  always 
so  over  the  greater  part  of  the  world?  Where 
the  climate  seems  to  us  of  this  zone  to  be  unpropitious 
or  extreme  nature  has  kindly  tempered  conditions,  so 
that  man  does  not  find  those  climates  any  more  uncom- 
fortable than  we  find  ours.  The  Laplander  and  the  Eskimo 
are  fed  and  clothed  in  accordance  with  their  requirements, 
while  the  South  Sea  Islander  and  the  African  native  are 
fed  and  unclothed  as  is  comfortable  in  their  regions  of 
eternal  summer. 

In  our  temperate  zone  have  we  not  more  days  of  sun- 
shine than  rain  and  cloud?  Does  not  the  moon,  do  not 
the  stars,  show  light  on  more  nights  than  are  cloudy  or 
moonless?  Then  why  should  we  not  often  remark.  What 
a  fine  day?  Why  not  often  help  one  another  to  note 
the  fact  of  the  beautiful  weather? 

If  you  greet  a  man  with  "Isn't  it  sweltering  to-day?"  ten 
chances  to  one  he  will  answer,  "Yes;  it's  roasting,"  or 
something  to  that  effect,  while  if  you  pleasantly  remark, 
"Fine  day,"  he  will  reply  "Delightful."  What  is  the 
philosophy  of  this?  Is  it  that  the  same  man  really  feels 
the  day  different  as  he  meets  a  growler  or  a  cheery  op- 
timist? Yes,  and  no.  He  is  more  or  less  affected  in  his 
physical  feeling  by  his  mental  attitude,  of  course;  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  expresses  in  his  reply  that  inborn 
longing  of  every  human  being,  if  not  of  every  rational 
creature,  for  sympathy,  that  instinctive  desire  to  be  in 
accord  with  one's  surroundings. 

This  being  so,  how  great  becomes  the  responsibility 
of  every  person  who  seeks  the  welfare  and  not  the  dis- 
comfort of  his  fellows,  to  strive  by  every  salutation  to 
make  his  neighbor  feel  better.  Then  let  us  comment 
upon  the  beautiful  weatker  ever  day  we  have  a  shadow 
of  excuse  for  doing  so;  and  if  any  stray  day  of  another 


kind  chances  to  come  along  let  us  look  for  some  pleasant 
thought  to  introduce  conversation  or  to  express  the  pass- 
ing greeting  rather  than  make  one  another  feel  more  of 
discomfort  than  need  be. 

And  broadening  our  outlook  beyond  the  mere  passing 
salutation,  or  even  the  words  of  our  lips  alone,  shall  we 
not  strive  more  earnestly  to  let  more  of  sunshine  into  our 
brothers'  and  sisters'  lives  day  by  day?  To-day  is  ours. 
Of  to-morrow  we  can  say  only  that  it  may  be  ours.  '*Oh, 
the  good  we  all  may  do  while  the  days  are  going  by!" 
As    Nixon    Waterman    beautifully    expresses    it: 

We  shall  do  so  much  in  the  years  to  come, 

But  what  have  we   done  to-day? 
We  shall  give  our  gold  in  a  princely  sum, 

But  what  did  we  give   to-day? 
We  shall  lift  the  heart  and  dry  the  tear, 
We  shall  plant  a  hope  in  the  place  of  lear, 
We  shall  speak  the  words  of  love  and  cheer, 

But  what  did   we  speak  to-day? 

We   shall   be  so   kind   in   the   afterwhile, 
But   what    have    we    been    to-day? 
We  shall  bring  to  each  lonely  life   a  smile. 

But   what   have   we   brought   to-day? 
We  shall  give  to  truth  a  grander  birth, 
^.nd   to   steadfast   faith   a  deeper   worth. 
We  shall  feed  the  hungering  souls  of  earth; 
But  whom  have  we   fed  to-day? 

We  shall  reap  such  joys  in  the  by  and  by. 

But  what  have  we  sown  to-day? 
We  shall  build  us  mansions  in  the  sky, 

But  what  have  we  built  to-day? 
'Tis   sweet   in   idle   dreams   to  bask, 
But  here  and  now  do  we  do  our  task? 
Yes,   this  is  the  thing  our  souls  must  ask — 

"What  have  we  done  to-(iay?" 


The  Oil  of  Joy 


IN  the  course  of  conversation,  a  gentleman  said,  "The 
world  wags  a  whole  lot  better  when  you  do  things 
in  the  pleasantest  way."  This  is  a  remark  that  at 
once  took  hold  of  the  hearer  as  one  freighted  with  much 
meaning.  We  know  the  value  of  oil  on  machinery,  as 
not  only  making  the  machine  work  more  smoothly  for 
the  time,  but  also  preserving  it  from  such  rapid  wear 
as   would   result   from   running   dry. 

Now  pleasant  dealing  in  the  ordinary  business  of  life 
is  the  oil,  the  grease,  if  you  please,  for  the  wheels;  it 
facilitates  the  performance  of  that  business,  and  length- 
ens the  life  of  the  human  machines  that  do  the  work  of 
the    world. 

It  is  said  that  every  laugh  adds  a  minute  to  one's 
life,  and  that  every  sigh  draws  a  drop  of  blood  from  the 
heart  and  lessens  the  number  of  heart  beats.  The  famous 
philosopher.  Sir  William  Hamilton,  held  that  pleasure 
is  connected  with  the  increase  in  the  vital  energy,  while 
the  sensation  of  pain  is  attended  by  a  diminution  in  the 
vital  energy.  There  is  surely  sound  reason  in  this.  In 
fact,  some  of  us  probably  know  of  persons  whose  lives 
have  been  shortened  by  grief  and  mere  physical  pain, 
even  where  that  pain  is  not  caused  by  disease.  This 
being  true,  the  converse  must  also  be  equally  true,  that 
people  often  have  their  lives  lengthened  by  mere  sensa- 
tions   of   pleasure. 

How  simple  and  plain  a  duty  it  becomes,  therefore, 
for  each  one  of  us  to  endeavor  to  lengthen  both  our  own 
lives  and  those  of  our  fellow-beings,  by  the  kindly  smile, 
the  cheery  word,  the  deed  that  shows  true  sympathy  and 
friendliness,  thus  increasing  the  pleasure  of  the  world 
and  adding  to  its  joy. 

Our  lives  in  this  world  are  so  intertwined,  that  every 
individual  touches  others  at  many  points.  Consciously, 
and,    even    more,    unconsciously,    we    help     others     to     a 


brighter  outlook  upon  life  in  its  many  and  varied  aspects, 
or  else  we  make  the  world  a  duller  one  than  it  need  be. 
In  the  common  acts  of  every  day — in  the  home,  on 
the  street  as  we  pass,  in  the  store  when  making  the  most 
trivial  purchase,  in  the  workshop  at  the  regular  opera- 
tions, in  the  office  with  its  daily  routine,  in  the  friend's 
home  when  we  pay  a  visit — how  many  are  the  oppor- 
tunities for  a  bright  word  of  hopeful,  cheery  salutation, 
how  many  a  remark  that  may  draw  attention  to  the 
silvery  lining,  it  may  be,  of  a  dark  cloud,  or  to  the  sun- 
shine lying  all  about  our  pathway — even  if  no  better,  a 
jest  or  witticism  uttered  in  good  humor,  something  that 
will  put  ourselves  and  others  in  touch  with  the  brightest, 
the  pleasantest  things  in  life.  So  we  can,  as  my  friend 
suggested,  help  in  no  small  degree  to  make  the  world 
wag  along  better,  by  doing  the  most  ordinary  things, 
even  the  most  difficult  or  unpleasant  duties,  in  the  pleas- 
antest way. 


A  Cure  for  Life's  Ills 


THE  implied  assumption  in  the  title  of  this  depart- 
ment is  that  there  is  a  dark  side  of  human  life. 
Some  people  seem  to  see  nothing  else.  The 
causes  of  that  darkness  are  various.  When  one  is  suffer- 
ing from  some  malady,  such  as  chronic  dyspepsia  or  per- 
sistent neuralgia,  it  is  hard  to  feel  merry.  Nevertheless, 
"a  merry  heart  is  a  good  medicine."  And  a  steady  en- 
strength  to  the  physical  frame,  a  quickened  sense  of  joy 
deavor  to  be  cheerful  has  often  resulted  in  an  access  of 
in  living,  an  actual  cure  of  some  ailment  that  proceeded 
perhaps  largely  in  the  first  place  from  a  morose  dispo- 
sition. 

The  worries  and  troubles  from  business  cares  are 
the  cause  of  much  ill-health.  It  is  trite,  but  true,  that 
worry  kills  more  people  than  work.  The  rush  and  com- 
petition is  hard  to  keep  up  with  in  these  days,  without 
entailing  an  immense  expenditure  of  nervous  force.  But 
that  heavy  drain  need  not  be  an  absolutely  devitalizing 
one.  If  business  cares  are  locked  in  the  office  with  the 
turn  of  the  key  as  the  man  goes  home,  if  he  does  not 
"talk  shop"  on  the  street,  in  the  cars,  by  the  evening 
lamp  in  his  parlor,  there  is  given  the  wearied  mind  a 
chance  to  recover  its  normal  condition  before  the  activi- 
ties of  the  next  day  press  upon  it.  And  the  observance 
of  a  Sabbath,  a  day  of  rest,  is  a  natural  law  as  much 
as  a  religious  institution.  One  day  in  seven  has  been 
proved  to  be  w^hat  man  requires.  If  he  thinks  he  can 
do  without  that,  he  only  draws  upon  his  capital;  if  he 
takes  more  frequent  rest,  he  fails  to  perform  his  share 
of  the  world's  work,  and  becomes  a  lazy  drone  in  the  hive. 

The  world  is  full  enough  of  wickedness  and  evil  to  make 
the  thought  of  it  a  burden.  Some  good  people  think  they 
ought  scarcely  to  dare  to  smile,  because  of  all  that  might 
draw  and  does  somewhere  draw  tears.  But  this,  it  would 
appear  on    more    rational    consideration,    is    a    mistaken 


view  to  take.  The  more  brightness  there  is  in  the  world, 
it  follows  of  necessity  the  less  gloom  there  will  be.  It 
is  surely  the  duty,  therefore,  of  each  lover  of  humanity 
to  seek  to  be  a  source  of  brightness  and  good  cheer,  and 
to  let  that  light  shine  before  men,  that  their  way  may  be 
made  more  clear  and  luminous. 

Modern  civilization,  with  all  its  advantages,  yet  lacks 
one  thing.  It  must  go  and  sell  all  that  it  has  and  follow 
the  Divine  law  of  nature,  live  in  accordance  with  the 
dictates  of  reason,  seeking  earnestly  to  maintain  "men- 
tem  sanam  in  corpore  sano,"  the  old  Roman's  ideal,  the 
ideal  of  the  Greek,  the  sanitary  excellence  of  the  Mosaic 
code.  It  must  eschew  vices  and  live  a  more  moderate 
life,  be  content  with  less  drive  and  rush  and  bustle.  It 
will  come  to  this.  And  the  old  saying  will  be  realized 
(no  disrespect  to  the  noble  body  of  physicians),  "Joy> 
temperance  and  repose,  slam  the  door  in  the  doctor's 
nose." 

And,  recognizing  this  ideal,  anxious  then  as  we  shall 
be  to  build  up  a  new  order  of  society,  improving  upon 
civilized  conditions  as  they  exist,  and  thus  giving  an 
example  to  the  world  of  what  life  can  be,  such  as  we 
see  it  in  animals  and  in  young  children,  how  much  more 
there  shall  then  be  of  that  brightness  that  shall  make 
it  a  joy  to  be  alive.  To  that  end,  for  society  is  but  an 
aggregation  of  individuals,  shall  we  not  each  one  en- 
deavor to  live  as  far  as  possible  this  care-free,  natural, 
healthful  life,  making  our  own  little  corner  brighter? 


Pleasure  of  Anticipation 

THERE  is  considerable  true  philosophy  in  the  doc- 
trine that  to  increase  one's  happiness  the  better 
way  is  not  to  enlarge  one's  acquisitions,  but  to 
curtail  one's  desires.  It  is  the  principle  which  actuated 
the  great  apostle  to  the  Gentiles  when  he  wrote,  "I  have 
learned  in  whatsoever  state  I  am,  therewith  to  be  content." 

James  Buckham,  in  the  Interior,  writing  of  the  joy 
of  modest  expectations,  declares  that  the  true  secret  of 
happiness  and  contentment  in  this  world  is,  not  to  ex- 
pect nothing,  as  some  have  bitterly  claimed,  but  to  ex- 
pect only  just  enough  to  tally  with  a  reasonable  degree 
of  realization  in  each  individual  case. 

The  pleasure  of  realization  depends  upon  the  de- 
gree and  the  kind  of  anticipation.  If,  indeed,  we  do  not 
expect  much,  we  cannot  be  disappointed  if  we  do  not 
receive  much.  While  if  we  look  for  great  things  and  get 
what  may  really  be  great,  but  chances  to  be  less  than  we 
had  hoped  for,  why,  we  are  cast  down.  And  such  shocks 
of  disappointment  make  up  a  great  part  of  the  heartaches 
and  bitterness  of  life,  and  spoil  much  of  possible  human 
happiness. 

The  cause  being  found,  the  cure  can  be  intelligently 
sought.  And,  fortunately,  that  cure  is  easy.  Simply 
this,  learn  to  curb  your  expectations.  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes,  in  his  humorous  poem  on  ''Contentment,"  says: 
"I  only  ask  that  Fortune  send  a  little  more  than  I  shall 
spend."  But  if  Fortune  send  only  a  little  more  than  I 
expect,  have  I  not  good  ground  for  happiness  and  con- 
tentment? And  perhaps  that  would  be  a  little  easier 
task  for  Fortune,  to  say  nothing  of  its  being  easier  for 
ourselves,  or  at  any  rate,  easier  on  ourselves. 

It  would  not  be  wise  to  adopt  the  motto  of  expecting 
nothing,  however,  for  one  of  the  surest  sources  of  joy, 
as  Mr.  Buckham  says,  consists  in  being  modestly  ex- 
pectant  of  what  this   earthly  life  has  to  offer.     There  is 


abundant  opportunity  for  leading  a  uniformly  happy  life, 
by  making  one's  fond  fancies  tally  with  one's  reasonable 
possibilities,  and  being  as  sensible  and  practical  about 
the  great  concerns  of  life  as  about  the  minor  affairs,  and 
those  which  affect  or  concern  us  but  little. 

While  there  may  be  some  difficulty,  especially  to  the 
young,  strong,  sanguine  spirit,  in  thus  checking  our 
flighty  steeds  of  fancy  yet  the  gain  thereby  to  be  ob- 
tained is  more  than  worth  the  effort.  The  discipline  is 
most  wholesome  and  profitable,  and  will  yield  a  large 
increase  of  happiness  for  the  future.  It  is  indeed  one  of 
the  characteristics  of  a  strong  spirit,  and  generally  of 
an  able  one,  that  it  is  willing  and  persistent  in  striving 
hard  and  long,  even  though  the  expectation  of  results 
may  be  but  modest. 

Let  us,  then,  not  refrain  from  building  our  castles  in 
the  air;  but  rather  make  them  as  beautiful  as  they  may 
reasonably  be  expected  to  be,  out  of  such  materials 
as  we  are  likely  to  have  at  hand  in  the  years  to  be;  and 
while  we  fling  our  rainbow  arches  over  into  the  future, 
let  us  not  think  that  they  must  land  us  on  a  palace  bal- 
cony or  in  a  garden  of  roses,  for  our  particular  arch 
may  lead  us  into  a  good,  large,  fertile  potato  patch! 


The  Joy  of  Incompleteness 

SOMETIMES  the  thought  is  uttered  that  it  is  only 
in  perfection,  completeness,  that  satisfaction  is  to 
be  found,  that  there  is  no  joy  in  a  life  which  is 
full  of  broken  lights,  of  shades  and  shadows,  of  ups  and 
downs,  perhaps  more  of  downs  than  ups.  Yet  how  mis- 
taken that  view  appears  when  it  is  more  narrowly  ex- 
amined. If  there  were  no  dull  grays,  no  blacks,  no  browns 
and  other  less  brilliant  colors,  where  would  be  the  joy 
in  the  hues  of  nature?  We  should  soon  grow  inexpress- 
ibly tired  of  the  gaudy,  glaring  reds  and  blues  and  yel- 
lows. And  after  all  is  it  not  by  the  very  blending  of 
these  primary  colors  in  various  ways  that  the  multitude 
of  colors  and  shades  are  produced? 

So  it  seems  that  it  is  the  variety,  the  mixture  of  bright 
and  dark,  that  makes  pleasure  for  our  senses  in  the 
physical  world  of  color;  so  also  in  the  world  of  human 
experiences,  the  real  perfection  and  satisfaction  appears 
to  come  rather  from  a  tempering  of  joy  with  sorrow, 
of  mirth  with  sadness,  that  causes  the  highest  and  best 
type  of  character,  the  most  perfect  blend  of  qualities  m 
our  human  makeup. 

There  is  use,  therefore,  for  the  dark  days  and  for  the 
rougher  ways,  both  for  our  own  enjoyment  of  the  sun- 
nier days  and  smoother  paths  by  contrast  and  for  our 
development  in  the  opportunity  they  give  of  offering  the 
torch  of  cheer  and  the  helping  hand  to  some  one  by  our 
side.  The  Sunday  Magazine  has  a  few  lines  on  this 
theme  that  may  well  be   reproduced  in  this   connection: 


If   our  lives   were   one   broad   glare 

Of   sunlight,    clear,    unclouded; 
If  all  our  paths   were  smooth   and  fair, 

By   no   soft    gloom    enshrouded; 
If    all    life's    flowers    were    fully    blown 

Without    the    sweet    unfolding. 
And  happiness   were   rudely   thrown 

On   hands   too   weak   for   holding; 
Should   we    not   miss    the    twilight   hours, 

The  gentle   haze   and   sadness; 
Should   we   not   long   for   storm   and   showers. 

To  teach  the  constant  gladness? 

If  none   were   sick  and  none   were   sad, 

What   service    could    we    render? 
I   think   if  we   were    always   glad 

We  scarcely   eould  be  tender. 
Did  our  beloved  never  need 

Our   tender   ministration. 
Earth  would  grow   cold,   and   miss   indeed 

Its    sweetest    consolation. 
If  sorrow  never  claimed  our  heart, 

And  every  wish  were  granted, 
Patience    would    die    and    hope    depart, 

Life  would  be  disenchanted. 


Masters  of  Fate 


IN  reading  the  famous  and  remarkable  poem  of  the 
late  English  poet,  William  Ernest  Henley,  in  which 
he  boldly  enunciates  his  creed  of  dogged  resistance 
to  fate,  declaring  his  independence,  one  cannot  but  be 
struck  with  the  tone  of  blind,  hopeless  fighting  with 
chance,  the  awful  gloom  and  darkness  of  despair  in  the 
view  of  this  life  as  a  place  of  sorrow,  wrath  and  horror. 
Listen  to  these  lines  from  him  who  has  been  called  the 
''pagan  poet"   and  feel  their  cold,  stolid  cynicism: 

Out   of   the   night   that   covers   me — 
Black  as   the  pit  from   pole  to  pole — 

I   thank   whatever   gods   may   be 
For   my   indomitable   soul. 

In    the   full    clutch   of   Circumstance 

I   have    not   winced   or   cried   aloud; 
Under  the   bludgeonings   of  Chance 

My  head  is  bloody,  but  unbowed. 

Beyond   this  place  of  wrath  and  tears 
Looms    but    the    horror    of    the    shade, 

And   yet   the   menace   of   the  years 
Finds — and   shall   find — me   unafraid. 

For    still,    however   strait   the    gate, 
How   charged   the  punishments   the   scroll, 

I  am  the  Master  of  my  Fate, 
I   am   the   Captain   of   my   Soul! 

What  a  blank  is  a  creed  that  can  say  no  better  than 
this!  Poor  Henley  seems  to  be  in  doubt  whether  there 
be  any  divine  power;  he  realizes  that  he  has  an  indom- 
itable soul,  yet  the  fact  of  its  existence  does  not  seem 
to  convince  him  that  that  soul  of  his  must  have  come 
from  some  higher  Soul;  nor  does  he  learn  that  lesson 
from  science  or  from  human  history. 

There  is  a  certain  nobility  about  his  defiance  of  chance 
and  circumstance;  but  it  is  the  nobility  of  Milton's  Satan, 
who  even  while  lying  in  the  sea  of  fire  hurls  defiance  at 
the  Almighty,  and  declares  "To  reign  is  worth  ambition, 
though  in  hell;  better  to  reign  in  hell  than  serve  in 
heaven."  A  nobility  of  ambition  worthy  of  a  better  cause 
and  better  ideals. 


Such  a  standpoint  as  that  of  Henley  would  not  permit 
the  view  of  this  world,  with  all  its  sorrow  and  wrath  and 
bitterness  and  gloom,  that  the  sacred  psalmist  took  when 
he  said:  ''Surely  the  wrath  of  man  shall  praise  Thee, 
and  the  remainder  of  wrath  Thou  shalt  restrain."  No! 
for  it  is  only  "to  the  upright"  in  heart,  the  man  who  puts 
his  trust  in  an  Infinite  Goodness,  as  the  Quaker  poet  did, 
that  "there  ariseth  light  in  the  darkness."  Whittier  tri- 
umphantly sings: 

« 
I   know   not   where    His    islands    lift 

Their  fronded  palms  in  air — 
I   only   know   I   cannot  drift 
Beyond  His  love  and  care. 

Here  is  the  faith  that  is  reasonable;  here  the  hope 
that  is  buoyant;  here  alone  can  be  found  the  secret  spring 
of  love,  love  to  God  and  love  to  man,  love  of  nature, 
and  truest  love  of  self  as  a  part  of  the  all-wise  Creator's 
workmanship.  Surely  this  is  the  saner  view  of  life  and 
its  meaning.  This  is  what  makes  a  man  truly  unafraid, 
and  not  merely  stolid  and  defiant.  It  is  that  view  that 
the  great  poet  laureate  held,  whom  many  expected  Hen- 
ley would  succeed  to  that  honor.  How  clearly,  calmly, 
confidently  ring  out  Tennyson's  words: 

Sunset    and   evening   star, 

And    one    clear    call    for    me; 
And   may   there   be   no   moaning   of   the   bar, 

When   I  put   out   to   sea. 

But  such  a  tide  as,   moving,   seems   asleep, 

Too   full   for  sound   or   foam; 
When  that  which  drew  from  out  the  boundless  deep 

Turns  again  home. 

Twilight   and   evening  bell, 

And    after    that    the    dark; 
And  may  there  be  no  sadness  of  farewell, 

When  I   embark. 

For  though  from  out  this  bourne  of  time  and  space 

The   flood   may   bear   me   far, 
I   hope   to   see   my   Pilot   face   to   face, 

When  I  shall  cross  the  bar. 


Unorganized  Charities 


IN  the  present  days  of  rush  and  drive  there  is  a  serious 
danger  of  our  giving  way  to  the  temptation  to  think 

that  we  have  not  time  to  attend  to  the  little  minor 
duties  of  being  attentive  and  thoughtful  and  kind.  No 
greater  mistake  could  be  made  than  this.  "Trifles  make 
perfection,  and  perfection  is  no  trifle." 

From  the  magazine,  ''The  Young  Woman,"  is  taken 
the  following  short  monologue  on  this  theme:  "I  some- 
times think  we  women,  nowadays,  are  in  danger  of  being 
too  busy  to  be  really  useful,"  said  an  old  lady,  thought- 
fully. "We  hear  so  much  about  making  every  minute 
count,  and  always  having  some  work  or  course  of  study 
for  spare  hours,  and  having  our  activities  all  systematized, 
that  there  is  no  place  left  for  small  wayside  kindnesses. 
We  go  to  see  the  sick  neighbor,  and  relieve  the  poor 
neighbor,  but  for  the  common  everyday  neighbor, 
who  has  not  fallen  by  the  way,  so  far  as  we 
can  see,  we  haven't  a  minute  to  spare.  But  not  every 
body  who  needs  a  cup  of  cold  water  is  calling  out  the 
fact  to  the  world,  and  there  are  a  great  many  little 
pauses  by  the  way  that  are  no  waste  of  time.  The  old- 
fashioned  exchange  of  flowers  over  the  back  fence,  and 
friendly  chats  about  domestic  matters,  helped  to  brighten 
weary  days,  and  brought  more  cheer  than  many  a  ser- 
mon. We  ought  not  to  be  too  busy  to  inquire  for  the 
girl  away  at  school,  or  to  be  interested  in  the  letter 
from  the  boy  at  sea.  It  is  a  comfort  to  the  mother's 
lonely  heart  to  feel  that  somebody  else  cares  for  that 
which  means  so  much  to  her.  Especially  we  ought  not 
to  be  too  busy  to  give  and  receive  kindnesses  in  our  own 
home.  May  no  one  be  able  to  say  of  us  that  we  are 
too  busy  to  be  kind." 

With  the  organization  of  our  "charities,"  let  us  not 
forget  the  unorganized  charities,  in  the  real  sense  of  acts 
of  love.     It  is   all  well,  and  no  more  than  our  duty,  to 


relieve  the  distresses  of  the  sick  and  the  needy,  but  we 
should  remember  also  the  "common,  every-day  neigh- 
bor," who  is  not  sick,  and  does  not  apparently  need  any- 
thing we  can  offer;  but  who  perhaps  is  longing  for  some 
word  of  sympathy  from  us,  some  little  act  which  shall 
show  a  kindly  friendly  interest.  It  will  help  the  next 
hour  to  move  more  lightly  and  happily,  will  perhaps  diive 
away  a  seemingly  causeless  cloud  from  the  sky  of  a  neigh- 
bor's life,  and  act  with  a  reflex  happy  influence  upon  our- 
selves. 

/Nor  is  this  kind  of  usefulness  beyond  the  reach  of 
anyone;  it  does  not  demand  time  beyond  what  anyone 
can  give;  it  requires  no  learning,  nor  wealth,  nor  position; 
it  is  something  everyone  can  do.  It  is  suited  just  as  much 
to  the  present  age,  with  all  its  "strenuousness,"  as  to 
any  other,  just  as  much  to  the  modern  man  and  the  ''new 
woman"  as  to  the  man  of  a  generation  or  two  ago,  or 
to  the  "old-fashioned"  woman. 

No   clever,    brilliant   thinker  she, 
With   college   record   and   degree; 
She  has   not  known  the  paths  of  fame; 
The    world    has    never   heard   her   name; 
She  walks   on   old,   untrodden  ways — 
The   valleys  of  the   yesterdays. 

Home   is   her  kingdom;    love   her  dower; 
She   seeks   no   other   wand   of   power 
To  make  home  sweet,  bring  heaven  near. 
To   win   a   smile   and   wipe   a  tear. 
And  do  her  duty  day  by  day, 
In  her  own  quiet  place  and  way. 

Around  her  childish  hearts  are  twined, 
As    round    some   reverent   saint   enshrined, 
And  following  hers   the   childish   feet 
Are   led   to   ideals   true  and  sweet, 
And  find  all  purity  and  good 
In  her  divinest  motherhood. 

She   keeps    her   faith   unshadowed   still- 
God  rules   the  world  in  good  and  ill; 
Men  in  her  creed  are  brave  and  true, 
And  women  pure  as   pearls   of  dew. 
And   life   for   her  is   high   and   grand, 
By  work  and  glad  endeavor  spanned. 

This  sad  old  earth's  a  brighter  place 

All  for  the  sunshine  of  her  face; 

Her   very   smile   a   blessing   throws, 

And  hearts   are  happier  where  she  goes. 

A  gentle,   clear-eyed  messenger. 

To   whisper  love— thank   God   for   her! 


Real   Success 


DIFFERENT  persons  seek  success  in  different  ways, 
and  there  are  different  views  of  what  constitutes  suc- 
cess, but  every  one  is  trying  to  succeed  in  life,  one 
way  or  another.  To  many  persons  success  means  making 
much  money.  A  man  may  be  in  business,  making  a  fair, 
even  a  comfortable  living  for  himself  and  his  family;  but 
unless  he  has  a  large  bank  deposit  and  is  laying  by  hun- 
dreds and  thousands  of  dollars  does  the  world  call  him 
successful?  Yet  is  not  the  comfortable  tradesman  just 
as  successful  really,  as  the  wealthy  merchant,  in  every- 
thing that  pertains  to  true  happiness,  so  far  as  business 
prosperity  can  bring  happiness?  And  he  has  less  anxiety 
and  less  chance  of  great  loss  to  interfere  with  his  enjoy- 
ment of  what  he   does  possess. 

Then  there  is  the  workingm'an,  as  ordinarily  that  term 
is  understood.  Can  he  not  be  successful  because  the 
opportunity  of  becoming  rich  is  seldom  open  to  him? 
Surely,  success  is  not  restricted  to  the  wealthy  employer. 

A  school  teacher  rarely  amasses  great  stores  of  money 
or  its  equivalent.  He  may  teach  all  his  life  in  a  small 
country  school.  But  this  leads  us  to  the  consideration  of 
other  important  criteria  of  success — the  scope,  the  number 
of  people  affected,  the  professional  standing.  Is  not  the 
teacher  of  a  small  school  possessed  of  far  greater  oppor- 
tunities because  of  his  coming  so  much  closer  to  his 
pupils  and  affecting  them  more  constantly  and  powerfully 
than  his  brother  in  the  large  city  school?  And  granting 
equal  faithfulness  in  the  city  professor  and  the  country 
schoolmaster,  who  shall  venture  to  say  that  the  latter 
is  one  whit  less  successful  than  the  former,  even  though 
he  may  perhaps  from  choice  stay  all  his  life  in  the  rural 
district,  even  though  his  talents  may  never  be  discovered 
and  brought  to  "the  front"? 

So  with  the  country  doctor.  Human  diseases  are  much 
the   same   in   the   country   and   the   small   town   as   in   the 


city.  Modern  appliances  are  almost  as  readily  at  the 
command  of  the  doctor  in  the  small  town  as  in  the  me- 
tropolis. He  can  be  kept  busy  all  his  time,  he  can  gather 
his  experience,  can  develop  his  skill,  can  become  well 
known  for  his  successful  cures  both  in  his  professional 
circle,  by  his  patients  and  their  families  and  throughout 
the  neighborhood,  just  as  well  in  the  small  place  as  his 
possibly  (?)  more  fortunate  brother  in  the  large  city.  Dare 
it  be  said  that  he  is  not  successful  simply  because  he  does 
not  make  his  bills  so  large,  or  have  his  waiting  room  so 
thronged? 

And  if  a  man  may  for  some  reason  of  circumstances,  or 
family  ties,  or  social  acquaintances,  or  even  simply  because 
he  prefers  to  live  in  the  small  place  rather  than  in  the 
nois}^  bustling  city,  remain  in  what  the  world  affects  to 
call  "obscurity,"  is  he  to  be  blamed  for  lack  of  ambition? 
Ambition  is  not  necessarily  a  good  thing;  true  success 
cannot  be  a  bad  thing.  Ambition  has  often  led  to  the 
direst  failure.  "By  that  sin  fell  the  angels."  What  wonder 
that  Wolsey  uttered  his  notable  warning,  "I  charge  thee, 
Cromwell,  fling  away  ambition." 

The  man  who  prefers  to  live  a  quiet  life,  doing  his 
daily  duty  faithfully,  is  more  truly  successful  and  happy 
than  he  who  aspires  to  reach  the  heights  of  fame  and 
riches  but  fails  to  see  that  "a  man's  life  consisteth  not  in 
the  abundance  of  the  things  which  he  possesseth." 


Success   Is   Not  All 


NOT  every  one  is  successful,  either  in  the  sense  in 
which  the  world  speaks  of  success,  or  in  the  truer 
sense,  that  of  performing  well  one's  part  in  life.  A  man 
may  struggle  on  through  life,  and  not  do  his  work  very 
well  at  all,  though  his  efforts  may  be  in  the  right  direction. 
He  cannot  even  in  the  sense  of  faithfulness  perhaps  be 
called  successful.  What  is  there  of  encouragement  for 
him? 

The  poet  of  the  Sierras,  Joaquin  Miller,  has  written 
some  very  strong  lines  full  of  appreciation  and  encourage- 
ment "for  those  who  fail": 

"AH  honor  to  him  who  shall  win  the  prize," 
The  world  has  cried  for  a  thousand  years; 

But  to  him  who  tries  and  who  fails   and  dies 
I  give  great  honor  and  glory  and  tears. 

Oh,  great  is  the  hero  who  wins  a  name, 

But  greater  many  and  many  a  time 
Some   pale-faced   fellow   who  dies   in  shame 

And  lets   God  finish   the  thought  sublime. 

And  great  is  the  man  with  a  sword  undrawn. 
And  good  is  the  man  who  refrains  from  wine; 

But  the  man  who  fails  and  yet  still  fights  on, 
liO,  he  is  the  twin-born  brother  of  mine. 

The  real  thing  to  be  considered  of  worth  is  not  the 
prize,  but  the  struggle.  It  is  the  striving  that  gives  the 
strength  which  wins  the  prize.  Schiller  beautifully  ex- 
presses this  idea,  when  he  makes  Jove  say  to  Hercules 
(the  translation  is  by  Bulwer  Lytton) : 

'Twas  not  my  nectar  made  thy  strength  divine, 
But  'twas  thy  strength  that  made  my  nectar  thine. 

Even  thus  does  the  Almighty  put  it  within  man's  power 

to  win  the  prize  as  it  were  from  Divinity  itself,  as  when 

Jacob  wrestled  with  the  angel  until  the  latter  cried,  "Let 

me  go."     Man   is  thus   honored  by  being   endowed  with 

power  that  matches  itself  with  Omnipotence.    And  in  the 

exercise  of  that  power  lies  the  supreme  exultation,  even 

surpassing   the   elation   over   winning  the   prize.      In   the 

words  of  another  poet: 

His  joy  is  not  that  he  hath  got  the  crown. 
But  that  the  power  to  win  the  crown  was  hJs. 


And  Pope  says:  "Honor  and  shame  from  no  condition 
rise:     Act  well  thy  part,  there  all  the  honor  lies." 

The  battle  against  besetting  sins,  against  evil  passions, 
against  enslaving  habits,  as  well  as  against  untoward 
circumstances,  may  go  sore  against  one;  strength  may  fail 
many  times  and  oft;  the  fortress  may  remain  uncaptured; 
but  keep  up  heart,  fight  on,  struggle  to  your  feet  again 
when  downed,  nor  tamely  yield  the  day,  but  "Let  the 
victors  when  they  come  Find  thy  body  by  the  wall." 

There  are  a  few  more  lines  I  wish  to  quote  here,  be- 
cause they  so  aptly  body  forth  the  truth  that  success, 
whether  of  the  world's  kind  or  of  that  which  is  the  meed 
of  the  humble  toiler  apart  from  the  world's  applause  and 
the  reward  of  titles  or  pelf,  is  not  the  only  honorable 
condition,  but  that  even  failure  may  command  respect  and 
sympathy  and  admiration,  because  of  the  struggle  it  in- 
volves. These  lines  are  by  a  friend,  whose  modesty  bade 
me  not  publish  his  name: 

No   careful   conning  of  recorded   history, 
No  shrewd  conjecture  and  no  subtle  guess 

Has  e'er  unsealed  the  meaning  and  the  mystery 
Of  those  twin  Fates  called   Failure  and   Success. 

Forever    rises    the    perplexing    problem 
To  him  whose  pathway  these  two  Fates  attend, 

Which  is  the  one  and  WTiich  the  other  of  them. 
Which   is  his   enemy  and  which  his   friend. 

The  wise  soul  does  not  wage  its  hope  eternal 
On    either    fortune,    but    with    will    sublime 

Moves  starward  steadfastly  to  some  goal  supernal 
Beyond    the    mists    and    mysteries    of    time. 


The    Constant   Man 


THERE  is  honor  given  to  the  successful  man,  and 
there  is  credit  to  the  one  who  tries  but  fails  and 
yet  tries  again.  But  there  is  another  man  who  de- 
serves high  praise  also,  the  one,  namely,  who  fixes  his 
eye  on  a  certain  goal,  and  steadfastly  pursues  his  way 
toward  that  mark,  regardless  alike  of  success  or  failure. 
Such  a  man  is  not  over-elated  when  he  succeeds,  his  head 
is  not  turned,  he  does  not  step  aside  to  enjoy  the  fruits 
of  conquest;  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  when  disaster  over- 
takes him  and  the  way  seems  hedged  up,  does  he  sit  down 
and  wring  his  hands  in  despair,  or  tamely  yield  to  circum- 
stances, but  makes  the  obstacles  stepping-stones,  and 
climbs  over  them  to  higher  ground. 

This  is  the  man  who  goes  steadily  onward,  undaunted 
by  untoward  fate,  and  unseduced  by  fortune's  allurements.. 
He  is  the  type  of  constancy.  He  forms  his  purpose  to 
attain  the  end  before  him,  the  ideal  that  he  seeks,  and 
then  follows  the  path  that  leads  to  that  goal,  unswerving, 
unaffected  by  the  heights  he  has  to  climb,  by  the  pitfalls 
that  lie  about  his  feet — but  are  not  for  such  as  he — un- 
daunted by  the  troubles  or  the  opposing  forces  that  he 
encounters.  He  gains  strength  by  every  contest,  wisdom 
from  every  experience,  and  goes  forward  undismayed, 
day  by  day  nearing  the  heights  he  would  attain — 
though,  if  he  be  a  true  man,  never  reaching  his  ideal. 
(Pity  the  man  who  does!) 

How  may  one  attain  to  this  high  serenity,  this  calm 
imperturbable  constancy  of  purpose,  this  tenacity  and  pa- 
tience of  accomplishment?  There  is  no  royal  road,  only 
the  old  path  of  training,  or  patient  plodding,  of  earnest 
endeavor  and  fixed  determination.  No  man  can  fix  the 
fate  that  will  come  to  him;  every  man  may  fix  the  spirit 
and  temper  of  mind  in  which  he  shall  encounter  what- 
ever fate  befall  him.  As  Priscilla  Leonard  in  the  Outlook 
recently  writes: 


No  man  can  choose  what  coming  hours  may  bring 
To  him  of  need,   of  joy,   of  suffering; 
But   what   his    soul   shall   bring   unto   each   hour 
To   meet   its   challenge — this   is   in  his   power. 

The  world  respects  a  man  who  thus  pursues  his  aim 
steadily,  regarding  neither  success  nor  failure,  going  on 
from  one  duty  to  the  next,  from  one  day's  achievement, 
however  slight  or  however  great,  to  the  tasks  of  the  next 
morning.  Honor  to  him,  the  steady-going  man!  the  man 
of  constant  spirit,  of  fixity  of  purpose,  of  earnestness 
unwavering!  Such  as  he  are  needed  in  this  world,  where 
there  is  too  much  of  impetuosity,  of  fickleness,  of  going 
"by  fits  and  starts."  Like  the  constant  dropping  that 
wears  away  the  stone,  it  is  the  constant  man  who  accom- 
plishes the  great  works  of  the  world,  the  enduring  struc- 
tures of  men's  hands  and  men's  minds.  His  example  is 
not  exciting,  but  better,  "it  is  encouraging,  it  helps  to 
achieve  undertakings,  it  serves  a  useful  end,  and  conduces 
to  make  life  better. 

I  do  not  know  the  author  of  the  following  lines,  which 
have  been  handed  to  me,  but  they  express  very  aptly  the 
thought  of  part  of  this  article: 


The    Inevitable 


I  like   the   man  who  faces  what  he  must, 
With  step  triumphant  and  a  heart  of  cheer; 
Who   fights    the   daily   battle   without   fear; 

Sees   his   hopes   fail,    yet  keeps   unfaltering  trust 

That  God  is  God;  that  somehow,  true  and  just, 
His  plans  work  out  for  mortals.    Not  a  tear 
Is  shed  when  fortune,  which  the  world  holds  dear, 

Falls  from  lis  grasp.    Better  witk  love  a  crust 
Than  living  in  dishonor;  envies  not. 

Nor  loses  faith  in  man.  but  does  his  best. 
Nor  ever  murmurs  at  his  humbler  lot. 

But  with  a  smile  and  words  of  hope  gives  zest 

To  every  toiler.    He  alone  is  great 

Who  by  a  life  heroic  conquers  fate. 


5^**-- 


.^y     Duty   of  Health 


IT  is  a  commonplace  to  say  that  a  man  has  a  duty  of 
being  well,  because  happiness  and  the  best  service 
of  life  is  not  possible  otherwise.  I  was  reading  a  few 
days  ago  an  editorial  in  an  eastern  weekly  which  sug- 
gested this  line  of  thought.  It  is  a  fact  to  which  we 
must  submit,  that  a  man's  mental  and  spiritual  state  is 
strongly  colored  by  his  physical  condition.  This  fact 
is  thus  put  by  Sydney  Smith  in  his  own  inimitable  fash- 
ion: 

"Happiness  is  not  impossible  without  health,  but  it 
is  of  only  difficult  attainment.  I  do  not  mean  by  health 
merely  an  absence  of  dangerous  complaints,  but  that  the 
body  should  be  in  perfect  tune,  full  of  vigor  and  alacrity. 
The  longer  I  live  the  more  I  am  convinced  that  the 
apothecary  is  of  more  importance  than  Seneca,  and  that 
half  the  unhappiness  of  the  world  proceeds  from  little 
stoppages,  from  a  duct  choked  up,  from  food  pressing 
in  the  wrong  place,  from  a  vexed  duodenum,  or  an  agi- 
tated pylorus.  The  deception,  as  practiced  upon  human 
creatures,  is  curious  and  entertaining.  My  friend  sups 
late,  he  eats  some  strong  soup,  then  a  lobster,  then  some 
tart,  and  he  dilutes  these  excellent  varieties  with  wine. 
The  next  day  I  call  upon  him.  He  is  going  to  sell  his 
house  in  London  and  retire  into  the  country.  He  is 
alarmed  for  his  eldest  daughter's  health.  His  expenses 
are  heavily  increasing  and  nothing  but  a  timely  retreat 
can  save  him  from  ruin.  All  this  is  lobster,  and  when 
over-excited  nature  has  had  time  to  manage  this  testa- 
ceous encumbrance,  the  daughter  recovers,  the  finances 
are  in  good  order  and  every  rural  idea  excluded  from 
his  mind.  In  the  same  manner  old  friendships  are  de- 
stroyed by  toasted  cheese,  and  hard  salted  meat  has  led 
to  suicide." 

The  v/itty  canon  here  seeks  to  emphasize  the  taci 
that    an    unhealthy    condition    of    body,    however    caused. 


produces  a  disastrous  effect  upon  the  mind  and  the  whole 
spirit,  rendering  impossible  for  the  time  being  the  high- 
est  living  on   any  plane. 

Fortunately,  however,  for  humanity,  good  health  is 
possible  for  the  great  majority  of  men  and  women,  if 
they  will  but  follow  certain  simple  and  easily  applied 
rules,  which  will  even  in  the  case  of  those  suffering  from 
serious  physical  affliction  make  some  degree  of  health 
and  happiness  possible.  These  rules  are  not  new,  but 
they  need  and  bear  emphasizing.     They  are: 

First,  preserve  a  bright,  cheerful,  hopeful  outlook  upon 
the  world  of  men  and  things.  There  is  no  tonic  in  the 
world,  both  for  yourself  and  those  about  you,  like  a  cheer- 
ful  spirit. 

Second,  live  as  naturally  as  you  can  by  eating  whole- 
some food  and  living  much  in  the  open  air.  Happily, 
he  is  very  peculiarly  situated  who  cannot  get  plenty  of 
God's  sunshine,  fresh  air,  pure  water  and  plain,  good  food, 
and  take  the  exercise  of  walking — one  of  the  best. 

Third,  avoid  nostrums,  avoid  them  as  you  would  the 
devil,  for  the  devil  of  disease  and  ruin  is  in  most  of  them. 
Of  course  there  are  some  exceptions.  Some  patent  med- 
icines are  good  and  useful,  but  in  general,  according  to 
the  authority  of  the  whole  medical  profession  and  the 
testimony  of  common  sense,  they  are  the  prolific  cause 
of  much  misery  and  ill  health.  These  three  rules  are 
not  hard  to  keep,  and  certainly  they  will  help  a  man  to 
be  healthful  and  happy,  and  to  add  to  the  happiness  and 
usefulness  of  others  also  and  thus  discharge  a  duty  he 
owes  to  himself,  his  family,  the  community  and  the  God 
who  made  him. 


Seeds    By   The   Wayside 


ONE  of  the  most  beautiful  little  gems  of  poetic 
thought  along  the  line  of  helpfulness  in  the  seem- 
ingly trivial  affairs  along  the  pathway  of  every- 
day life,  is  this  by  D.  G.  Bickers,  printed  in  "The  Life- 
boat," an  illustrated  monthly  journal  devoted,  according 
to  the  title  page,  to  "charitable,  philanthropic,  health  and 
soul-saving  work,"  and  published  in  Chicago.  It  is  en- 
titled 'Xittle  Kindnesses": 

You  gave   on  the  way  a  pleasant  smile, 

And   thought   no  more  about  it; 
It   cheered  a  life   that  was   sad   the  while, 

That   might   have   been   wrecked   without   it. 
And  so  for  the  smile  and  fruitage  fair 
You'll   reap   a  crown  some   time — somewhere. 

You   spoke   one   day   a   cheering  word, 

And   passed    to    other   duties; 
It  warmed   a  heart,    new   promise   stirred, 

And    painted    a    life    with    beauties. 
And  so  for  the  wori  and  its  silent  prayer 
You'll   reap   a   palm    some   time — somewhere. 

You  lent  a  hand   to  a  fallen   one, 

A  life   in  kindness   given; 
It  saved  a  soul  when  help  was  none, 

And    won    a   heart   for   heaven; 
And    so    for    the    help    you    proffered    there 
You'll  reap   a  joy   some   time — somewhere. 

It  is  such  seeds  scattered  by  the  wayside  that  often 
spring  up  to  bear  fruit  of  happy  memories  in  after  days, 
and  often,  too,  bring  returns  of  kind  deeds.  It  is  only 
such  things  which  one  can  really  call  one's  own  acquisi- 
tions— for  wealth  and  property  can  be  held  only  for  a  few 
years  at  longest  and  then  must  be  left  behind.  But  one's 
own  character,  developed  by  such  training  to  deeds  of 
sympathy  and  human  kindness  to  one's  fellow  toilers, 
remains  with  its  possessor  even  beyond  the  bounds  of 
this  life.  As  expressed  in  a  sentence  from  the  conclusion 
of  a  eulogy  on  Peter  Cooper,  "All  you  can  hold  in  your 
cold,  dead  hand  is  what  you  have  given  away." 

The  development  of  a  disposition  and  character  of 
helpfulness  is  not  a  matter  of  accident.  It  requires  a 
fixed  and  steady  purpose  to  see  and  seize  opportunities. 


Like  everything  else  worth  accomplishing  it  demands 
constant  application.  Samuel  Smiles,  in  his  great  book 
on  ''Self  Help,"  says:  "Accident  does  very  little  toward 
the  production  of  any  great  result  in  life.  Though  some- 
times what  is  called  *a  happy  hit*  may  be  made  by  a 
bold  venture,  the  common  highway  of  steady  industry 
and  application  is  the  only  safe  road  to  travel."  And 
it  is  the  only  road  that  leads  to  the  rounding  out  of  a 
beautiful  character  that  shall  be  made  a  source  of  help- 
fulness to  those  around.  One  must  keep  the  eyes  open 
for  the  chances  of  the  kindly  deed,  the  encouraging  word, 
the  appreciative  look,  which  will  bring  an  extra  ray  of 
sunshine  into  the  heart  of  the  friend  or  the  stranger, 
and  thus  tend  to  make  the  world  a  little  better  for  one's 
having  lived  in  it. 


Life's    Loom 


OUR  life  is  made  up  of  days  and  the  deeds  we  put 
into  them.  The  days  are  the  warp  and  the  deeds 
the  woof  of  life.  Another  web  has  been  woven 
by  the  swiftly  passing  shuttles  of  time,  and  we  look  back 
upon  the  completed  year.  In  and  out  have  the  threads 
of  action  been  flying  through  the  days,  alternating  be- 
tween sunshine  and  shadow.  Well  for  us  if  the  Master 
of  all  good  workmen  has  been  able  to  look  with  ap- 
proval upon  our  endeavor.  Not  upon  our  achievement, 
for  the  best  endeavor  all  too  often  falls  far  short  of 
accomplishment.  But  the  will  to  do  and  the  effort  to  be 
the  best  we  can  is  what  is  regarded. 

It  may  be  that  our  own  estimate  of  our  actions  is 
far  from  correct.  On  the  one  hand,  it  may  have  been 
too  roseate  and  self-congratulatory.  Or  on  the  other, 
possibly  we  have  been  unduly  cast  down  and  filled  with 
self-reproach.  We  may  have  "builded  better  than  we 
knew."  The  true  state  of  our  conduct  is  not  always  ap- 
parent to  our  own  eyes. 

In  a  discourse  quoted  in  the  Sunshine  Bulletin  Rev. 
Donald  Sage  Mackay,  D.  D.,  of  New  York,  refers  to  the 
familiar  lines  entitled  "The  English  Tapestry  Weavers," 
written  by  an  American  after  visiting  their  factories  in 
England. 

In  these  works,  as  is  known  to  those  who  have  seen 
or  read  about  them,  the  pattern  hangs  overhead,  above 
the  weaver,  while  he  himself  works  always  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  web,  never  seeing  the  worked-out  pattern  un- 
til the  piece  is  finished. 

Let  us  learn  a  New  Year's  lesson  (no  better  lesson  can  be) 
From  the  ways  of  the  tapestry  weavers   on  the  other  side   of 
the  sea. 

Above  their  head  the  pattern  hangs,   they  study  it  with  care, 
And   as   to   and   fro  the   shuttle  leaps,   their   eyes   are  fastened 
there. 

They   tell  this   curious   thing,   besides,   of  the  patient,   plodding 

weaver. 
He  works  on  the  wrong  side  evermore,  but  works  for  the  right 

side  ever. 


f 

It  is  only  when  the  weaving  stops,  and  the  web  is  loosed  and 

turned, 
That   he   sees   his   real   handiwork,    and   his   marvelous   skill   is 

learned. 

The  years   of   men   are   the   looms   of  God,   let   down  from   the 

place  of  the  sun, 
Where  one  and  all  are  weaving  till  the  mystic  web  is  done. 

Weaving  blindly,  but  weaving  surely,  each  for  himself  his  fate, 
We  may  not  see  how  the  right  side  looks;  we  can  only  weave 

and  wait. 
But  looking  above  for  the  pattern,  no  weaver  hath  need  to  fear; 
Only   let   him    look    clear    into   heaven,    the    perfect   pattern    is 

there. 

If  he  keeps  the  face  of  the  Savior  forever  and  always  in  sight, 
His   toil  shall  be  rich  with  blessing,   and  his  weaving  is   sure 
to   be   right. 

And  when  his  task  is  ended,  and  the  web  is  turned  and  shown. 
He  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Master  exclaiming  to  him,  "Well 
done." 

Life,  we  are  told,  is  sacred  because  it  is  the  arena 
rii  which,  character  is  developed.  "We  are  placed  here  to 
work  out  a  personal  character  which  shall  endure  the 
shock  of  ages."  Accepting  this,  we  see  our  lives  become 
a  part  of  a  great  plan,  "the  unfolding  of  a  purpose  whose 
motive  is  love  and  whose  thought  is  immortal."  The 
trials,  the  defeats,  the  disappointments,  the  temptations, 
the  sorrows,  no  less  than  the  joys,  the  satisfactions,  the 
pleasures,  the  triumphs,  have  been  merely  the  tools 
placed  in  our  hands  "to  chisel  out  the  finer  lines  of  a 
deathless  character." 

The  past  may  have  contained  many  things  that  seemed 
dark  and  mysterious  to  us,  even  after  months,  it  may  be, 
have  rolled  by.  Nevertheless,  at  the  last,  our  life  will 
have  amounted  to  something  when  out  of  every  trial  and 
every  sorrow  we  emerge  with  purer,  stronger,  truer  char- 
acters. Then  we  shall  see,  when  the  web  is  turned,  that 
every  dark  thread  had  its  place  in  the  infinite  plan,  and 
the  right  side  will  be  bright.  May  we  ever  work  for  that 
side,  watching  the  pattern  and  copying  it  as  nearly  as 
may  be. 


Happiness   of  Age 


ONE  of  the  best  views  of  life,  because  at  the  same 
time  one  of  the  sanest  and  most  cheering,  is  that 
which  regards  the  future  with  the  expectation  of 
ever-increasing  happiness.  It  is  commonly  thought  that 
youth  is  the  happiest  time  of  life,  because  it  is  more 
care-free  than  maturer  years.  But  this  does  not  stand 
the  test  of  scrutiny  when  we  look  at  the  facts  of  the 
case  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  person  who  has  en- 
deavored to  make  the  best  use  of  life. 

In  fact,  there  are  many  reasons  why  age  should  be 
happier  than  youth.  If  the  question  is  asked,  why  this 
is  so,  I  cannot  do  better  than  quote  just  here  the  words 
of  some  one,  whose  identity  I  do  not  know,  but  whose 
answer  to  the  question  I  read  in  a  recent  issue  of  a 
religious  journal  of  this  State: 

"Perhaps  you  will  say  that  it  is  not.  I  well  know  that 
it  is  customary  to  consider  the  irresponsible  years  of 
childhood  to  be  the  sunniest  part  of  life.  But  truly, 
having  passed  the  half-century  limit,  I  would  no  sooner 
go  back  to  that  charming  period  than  would  the  college 
senior  like  to  be  put  back  into  the  freshman  class.  Though 
my  childhood  and  youth  were  very  happy  ones,  and  often 
it  is  pleasant  to  review  my  delightful  past  in  memory, 
still  I  think  mature  years  are  richer  and  fuller  of  peace 
and  pleasure  in  living  than  immature  ones  can  possibly 
be.  For  one  thing  we  have  learned  how  to  live;  have, 
in  a  measure,  disciplined  ourselves  to  bear  the  disap- 
pointments, bereavements,  trials,  which  must  come  to  all; 
have  learned  that  these  things  must  needs  be.  We  see 
others  worse  off  than  ourselves,  and  feel  obliged  to  stifle 
our  griefs  from  respect  to  their  'heavier  woe.'  We  learn 
to  weigh  circumstances  and  to  know  better  what  is  good 
for  us,  to  live  one  day  at  a  time;  to  know  where  our 
place  in  the  world  is;  what  our  work  is;  and  that  to  do 
our  best  right  where  we  are  is  all  that  God  requires  of 


us.  We  can  see  how  even  our  mistakes  have  done  us 
good.  A  thousand  matters  of  interest  claim  our  attention 
which  in  youth  possessed  no  attraction.  Having  seen 
the  growth  of  scores  of  babes,  through  childhood  and 
youth  into  manhood  and  womanhood,  we  gain  a  pro- 
phetic insight  which  enhances  the  study- of  human  nature  a 
hundredfold. 

"Then  we  know  our  time  is  growing  short,  and  whose 
home  seemeth  not  dearer  in  the  prospect  of  soon  leaving 
it  even  for  a  better?" 

Such  an  attitude  toward  advancing  age  ought  to  make 
the  aging  feel  content  and  pleased  with  their  condition, 
and  it  ought  to  make  those  of  us  who  are  young  look 
without  dread  at  the  thought  of  growing  old.  The  pos- 
sibility of  growing  old  beautifully  and  gracefully,  the 
example  of  those  who  have  done  so,  perhaps  in  our  own 
homes,  should  stimulate  us  to  live  with  regard  to  the 
future,  so  that  when  the  hair  is  whitening  and  the  physical 
powers  are  gradually  lessening  we  may  have  the  com- 
panionship of  pleasant  memories,  of  days  and  years  well 
spent,  of  wisdom  gained  through  experience  not  full  of 
bitterness,  and  of  a  consciousness  of  growth  into  a  better 
and  deeper  understanding  of  life  and  its  various  problems. 

This  view  seems  to  be  the  most  reasonable  one.  And 
it  certainly  is  full  of  comfort  for  the  old,  and  of  en- 
couragement for  the  middle-aged  and  young. 


Growing   Old    Beautifully 


You  haven't  changed  a  bit!"  How  often  the  words 
are  said  by  one  friend  to  another.  What  is  the 
secret  of  it?  One  woman,  to  whom  such  a  greet- 
ing was  given  by  one  who  had  not  seen  her  for  years, 
and  who  appeared  to  half  wonder  and  half  envy  at 
the  perennial  freshness  of  youth  in  her  friend's  coun- 
tenance, saying  she  looked  as  young  as  ten  years  before, 
replied,  ''Young?"  as  if  reflecting  upon  the  word  for  the 
first  time,  ''Bless  you!  I  haven't  had  time  to  grow  old; 
I  have  been  too  busy  even  to  think  about  it."  There  is 
the  recipe;  abundance  to  do,  to  keep  one  profitably  busy, 
yet  without  worry.  In  the  case  of  the  woman  mentioned 
her  heart  and  hands  had  been  full;  all  the  comfort  and 
brightness  that  came  into  the  sick  room  of  an  invalid 
was  due  to  her;  a  sister's  orphan  children  had  been  left 
to  her  care,  and  with  the  task  of  managing  her  limited 
income  so  as  to  provide  for  all,  her  ingenuity  had  been 
taxed.  Her  heart  had  retained  its  warmth  and  interest 
in  life  because  of  her  having  mothered  the  flock.  Such 
a  life  of  busy  helpfulness  may  add  years,  but  they  bring 
few  of  the  signs  of  age,  so  long  as  the  burdens  are  cheer- 
fully, uncomplainingly  borne.  Old  age  may  be  and  ought 
to  be  the  happiest  time  of  life;  and  if  the  happiest,  why 
should  not  the  greeting  "You  look  as  young  as  you  did 
when  I  saw  you  last,  ten  years  ago"  be  a  frequent  salu- 
tation? 

Another  secret  of  growing  old  beautifully  is  to  so  live 
as  to  keep  health.  Yes,  it  is  possible  in  most  cases,  to 
retain  one's  health  and  vigor.  "How  can  we  do  that?" 
do  you  ask.  Let  me  quote  a  few  directions  from  the 
Journal  and  Messenger: 

"Don't  worry.  Don't  hurry.  'Too  swift  arrived  as 
tardy  as  too  slow.'  'Simplify!  simplify!  simplify  your 
diet!  Don't  overeat.  Don't  starve.'  %et  your  mod- 
eration be  known  unto  all  men.'     Court  the  fresh  air  day 


and  night.  'Oh,  if  you  knew  what  was  in  the  air!'  Sleep 
and  rest  abundantly.  Spend  less  nervous  energy  each 
day  than  you  make.  Be  cheerful.  'A  light  heart  lives 
long.'  Think  only  healthful  thoughts.  'As  he  thinketh 
in  his  heart,  so  is  he.'  'Seek  peace,  and  pursue  it.'  'Work 
like  a  man,  but  don't  be  worked  to  death.  Avoid  passion 
and  excitement:  a  moment's  anger  may  be  fatal.'  Asso- 
ciate with  healthy  people:  health  is  contagious  as  well  as 
disease.  'Don't  carry  the  whole  world  on  your  shoulders, 
far  less  the  universe;  trust  the  Eternal.'  Never  despair, 
'Lost  hope  is  a  fatal  disease.'  'If  ye  know  these  things, 
happy  are  ye  if  ye  do  them.'  " 

These  suggestions  are  surely  within  the  compass  of 
every  one  to  carrj^  out.  It  seems  to  me  that  little  needs 
to  be  added  to  these  rules  for  daily  simple  living,  to  se- 
cure physical  vigor  that  will  endure  the  long  years 
through.  Do  we  not  see  examples  of  the  very  carrying 
out  of  these  principles  of  conduct.  Have  you  ever  no- 
ticed a  healthy,  happy  old  man  or  woman  who  was  not 
placid,  even-tempered,  self-controlled  and  moderate  in 
habits  and  contented  in  disposition?  A  good  example  to 
copy,   surely. 


Usefulness   Of  The   Old 


NO  AGE  is  without  its  temptations,  which  would 
draw  one  off  from  making  the  most  of  one's  op- 
portunities. The  youth  is  disposed  to  impulsive- 
ness and  rashness,  and  perhaps  also  sometimes  (though 
not  so  likely  nowadays)  to  think  that  he  cannot  accom- 
plish much,  that  the  world's  work  is  for  older  men.  The 
middle-aged  is  disposed  to  be  engrossed  so  deeply  in  the 
affairs  of  business  that  he  forgets  to  cultivate  the  graces 
of  life.  While  the  aged  person  is  in  danger  of  yielding 
to  one  great  temptation — to  think  that  his  days  of  use- 
fulness are  past. 

It  is  to  the  latter  class  that  these  lines  are  especially 
addressed,  though  there  may  chance  to  be  something  in 
them  that  may  stimulate  a  thought  in  the  minds  of  the 
younger. 

It  is  a  great  mistake  for  the  old  to  feel  that  they 
are  in  the  way,  and  would  be  better  out  of  the  world.  If 
the  Lord  thought  so  doubtless  he  would  find  some  way 
to   remove   them   when   their   usefulness   had   ceased. 

What  makes  any  one  useful?  Surely  it  is  not  strength 
and  vigor  to  labor.  Else  a  baby  would  be  a  most  useless 
creature,  but  who  will  say  it  is?  Does  it  not  twine  its 
little  individuality  around  the  hearts  of  all  in  the  family, 
and  by  the  cords  of  common  love  bind  together  the  mem- 
bers of  the  household,  often  causing  the  father  to 
''straighten  up,"  perhaps  uniting  the  once  estranged  hus- 
band and  wife,  and  bringing  brightness  and  peace  into 
a   home   cursed  by  strife   and  variance? 

Usefulness  is  not  dependent  upon  health.  Else  there 
would  be  many  an  invalid  who  would  be  cumbering  the 
earth,  but  who  now  is  blessing  it  by  calm  patience  and 
quiet  ministrations  to  those  around.  The  strong  and  well 
could  not  have  access  to  the  heart  perhaps  as  surely  as 
those  who  are  in  some  sense  dependent  on  account  of 
less   abundant  vigor. 


In  these  days  when  so  much  is  said,  and  well  said, 
of  the  value  of  the  young  men  and  the  young  women 
to  society,  it  is  well  to  recognize  the  value  of  the  old 
men  and  women  in  steadying  society,  in  giv'ng  op- 
portunity to  younger  persons  to  cultivate  the  graces  of 
respect,  gentleness  and  consideration,  and  in  affording 
the  rich  results  of  the  accumulated  wisdom  of  experience. 
Then,  too,  the  aged  themselves  have  a  right  to  feel 
that  they  are  in  that  period  of  life  when  its  richest  fruit 
may  be  plucked  by  them.  The  autumnal  days  of  harvest 
afford  opportunity  for  gathering  the  mature  thoughts 
and  safest  judgments  as  to  the  characters  and  actions  of 
people,  the  wisest  deductions  from  experience  as  to  the 
really  great  things  of  life,  the  things  most  worth  while 
and  most  deserving  of  attention  and  effort.  And  the  aged 
can  give  the  benefit  of  these  experiences  and  thoughts 
to  those  who  are  less  advanced  in  years,  less  matured  in 
judgment.  This  affords  delight  to  the  giver  and  wise 
counsel   to  the   recipient. 

No,  the  old  are  not  in  the  way  on  account  of  their 
age;  many  a  so-called  middle-aged  man  and  woman,  even 
here  and  there  a  young  one,  too,  is  more  in  the  way, 
more  of  a  "fossil,"  than  the  average  old  person.  Let 
not  the  old  think  they  are  useless,  or  the  young  make 
them    feel    so.      "All    are    needed    by   each    one." 


A   Good   Rule 


THERE  is  so  much  in  almost  anyone's  experience 
that  is  pleasant  and  ought  to  make  one  happy  that 
it  would  seem  very  hard  to  find  oneself  in  any  posi- 
tion where  the  bright  spots  do  not  far  outnumber  the  dark 
ones.  In  other  words,  "there  is  nothing  so  bad  that  it 
might  not  be  worse, '^  and  in  every  situation  there  is  more 
to  be  thankful  for  than  to  grieve  over,  if  we  only  look 
in  the  right  direction  and  see  what  benefits  encompass 
our  pathway.  The  following  lines  by  D.  L.  Johnson, 
handed  to  me  the  other  day, put  this  thought  into  suitable 
form,  so  I  gladly  quote  them: 

You   live   and  have  your   daily   bread. 

Just  be  thankful. 
Great   blessings  fall  upon  your  head. 

Just  be  thankful. 
God   smiles   upon  you   day   by  day, 
He   guards  you  whereso'er  you   stray, 
He    loves    to    listen    when    you    pray. 

Just  be  thankful. 

If  things  ain't  cooked   the  way  you  wish. 

Just  be  thankful. 
Don't   growl   and   say   you'll   break   the   dish. 

Just  be  thankful. 
This  life,  you  know,  is  more  than  meat; 
Be   glad   for  what  you   have   to   eat. 
Don't   scold,    but  keep  your  temper  sweet. 

Just  be  thankful. 

When    business    gets    a    little    slack, 

Just  be  thankful. 
When   things   seem   running  off   the   track, 

Just  be  thankful. 
It   won't   help    things    to   mope   and    cry; 
No   strength's    extracted   from   a   sigh, 
Keep  your  eye  clear,   your  courage  high. 

Just  be  thankful. 

When    sorrow    breaks    your   peace    of   mind, 

Just  be  thankful. 
Remember    God    is    good    and    kind. 

Just  be  thankful. 
He'll    fill   your   mind   with   sweetest   peace; 
Your    happiness    He    will    increase. 
His    love    for   you    shall    never    cease. 

Just  be  thankful. 


God   still   holds    all   things    in   His    hands. 

Just  be  thankful. 
His  word  as   firm,   as   ever  staunch. 

Just  be  thankful. 
He  watches  o'er  His  people  still. 
Their  mouths  with   good  things  He  doth  fill. 
Forsake  His  own  He  never  will. 

Just  be  thankful. 

There  is  good  philosophy  here,  and  if  we  can  adopt 
it  as  our  rule  of  conduct  we  shall  find  life's  wheels  run 
more  smoothly  by  far  than  if  we  go  about  fretting  and 
fuming  over  everything  that  goes  wrong.  Life  is  too 
short  to  waste  it  thus,  and  as  the  saying  goes,  "It  will 
be  all  the  same  a  hundred  years  hence,"  yes,  one  year 
hence  (or  one  day  hence,  as  I  read  a  few  days  ago),  most 
of  the  things  that  trouble  us  will  be  "all  the  same"  as 
if  they  had  been  just  to  our  liking.  So  why  not  just 
cast  care  and  worry  to  the  winds  and  face  the  happenings 
of  every  day  with  an  unruffled  brow,  looking  rather  at 
the  comforts  we  enjoy  and  the  good  things  that  fill  our 
days  than  at  the  rough  stones  and  the  sharp  thorns  that 
occasionally  thrust  themselves  before  us  in  our  pathway, 
and   "just  be   thankful." 


Power   of  Song 


THE  cheerful  spirit  will  cause  its  owner  to  do  things 
that   will    and    must    brighten   the    day   for   others 
whom    he    is    unaware    of    helping.      The    Youth's 
Companion  tells  of  a  striking  instance  of  this  that  hap- 
pened in  San  Francisco. 

Thirty  men,  red-eyed  and  disheveled,  were  standing 
in  line  before  the  Judge  in  the  Police  Court — the  regular 
morning  squad  of  drunks  and  disorderlies  up  for  sen- 
tence. Some  of  the  men  were  old  in  years  and  in  crime, 
others  hung  their  heads  in  shame  because  it  was  their 
first  appearance  there.  As  the  prisoners  were  about  to 
be  dealt  with  one  by  one  by  the  Judge  a  strange  thing 

happened.     There   came  up  from  below  the  strains  of  a 
song,  sung  by  a  strong,  clear  voice: 

Last  night  I  lay  a-sleeping, 
There  came  a  dream  so  fair. 

Last  night!  What  a  shock!  It  had  been  for  most 
of  them  a  time  of  carousal,  a  drunken  stupor  or  a  night- 
mare.    But  they  heard  the  song  go  on: 

1  stood  in  Old  Jerusalem, 
Beside  the  temple  there. 

The  Judge  had  delayed  to  open  the  court.  He  made 
inquiry,  and  found  that  a  former  member  of  a  famous 
opera  company,  who  was  known  all  over  the  country, 
was  in  the  jail  below,  awaiting  trial  for  forgery. 

The  song  went  on.  Every  man  in  the  line  manifested 
emotion.  One  or  two  dropped  on  their  knees.  A  boy 
at  the  end  leaned  his  head  against  the  wall,  and  after 
trying  vainly  to  keep  control  of  himself  burst  into  sobs 
and   tears,   crying  out   "Oh,   mother,   mother!" 

His  sobs  went  to  the  heart  even  of  the  hardest  of  the 
men.  But  one  began  to  protest:  "Judge,"  said  he,  "how 
long  have  we  got  to  stand  this?  We're  up  here  for  sen- 
tence, but  this — "     He,  too,  broke  down. 

The   Judge   could   not   proceed   with   the   business   of 


the   court,   yet   he  gave   no   order   to   stop   the  singing  of 
the  beautiful  song.     It  went  on  to  its  grand  climax: 

Jerusalem,  Jerusalem!     Sing  for  the  night  is  o'er; 

Hosanna  in  the  highest!     Hosanna  for  evermore! 

In  the  silence  that  succeeded  the  ecstasy  of  melody 
ihe  Judge  looked  into  the  faces  of  the  men  before  him. 
Not  one  but  showed  that  he  was  deeply  touched,  that  hi^ 
better  impulses  had  been  stirred.  There  was  no  indi- 
vidual calling  of  cases  that  morning.  Instead,  the  Judge 
gave  the  men  all  together  a  kindly  word  of  advice,  and 
dismissed  them.  The  song  had  accomplished  more  than 
punishment    would   have    done. 

That  forger  probably  had  little  thought  that  anyone 
would  notice  his  singing,  perhaps  he  cared  still  less.  He 
sang  no  doubt  to  cheer  his  own  loneliness,  perhaps  to 
take  his  thought  off  the  trouble  into  which  he  had  brought 
himself  by  his  crime.  But  what  a  power  song  possesses, 
when  even  in  such  circumstances  it  could  have  such  a 
subduing  and  melting  effect. 

How  much  easier  it  is  to  work  briskly  when  whistling 
a  merry  tune.  How  our  steps  and  our  every  movement 
will  keep  pace  to  an  inspiring  song.  But  deeper  than 
this  lies  the  emotional,  if  one  might  so  call  it  the  spiritual 
effect — the  toning  of  one's  spirits,  the  raising  of  the  droop- 
ing head,  the  invigorating  of  the  flagging  activity,  when 
a  noble  song  bursts  upon  the  ear,  or  when  a  gentle,  sooth- 
ing refrain  steals  into  the  consciousness.  Religion  has 
stirred  all  the  best  that  is  within  human  nature  by  song. 
Well  is  music  called  the  "divine  art,"  since  it  appeals  to 
that  which  is  divine  in  us.  All  the  noblest  and  most 
hopeful  and  most  practically  helpful  of  the  various  creeds 
to  which  man  subscribes,  have  their  hymns.  From  the 
earliest  ages  it  has  been  this.  Helpfulness  to  self  and  to 
others   then   endorses   the   exhortation,   "Sing   on." 


Filling   One's   Niche 


THERE  is  a  poem  written  by  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox, 
entitled  "Why  and  Wherefore/'  which  sets  forth 
a  wise  plan  of  action,  whether  we  feel  that  we 
know  much  of  our  origin  and  destiny  or  not.  Apart  from 
such  subjects  as  perplex  and  confuse,  there  are  plenty  of 
things  to  engage  our  attention  profitably,  and  on  these 
it    will    pay    us    to    ponder.      The    gifted    authoress    thus 


writes: 


I  know  not  whence  I  came, 

I    know    not    whither    I    go, 
But  the   fact  stands   clear 
That   I  am   here 

In    this    world    of    pleasure    and    woe, 
And    out   of   the   mist   and   murk 

Another    truth    shines    plain — 
It  is   in  my  power 
Each  day  and  hour 

To  add  to  its  joy  or  its  pain. 

I  know   that  the   earth   exists, 

It  is  none  of  my  business  why, 
I    cannot    find    out 
What  it's  all  about — 

I    would    but    waste    time    to    ti-y- 
My  life  is  a  brief,   brief  thing, 

I   am   here   for   a   little   space. 
And   while   I  stay 
I  would  like,   if  I  may, 

To   brighten   and   better   the    place. 

The    trouble,    I    think,    with    us    all 

Is  the  lack  of  a  high  conceit; 
If  each  man  thought 
He    was    sent    to    the    spot 

To   make   it   a   bit   more   sweet. 
How  soon  we  could  gladden  the  world, 

How   easily  right  all  wrong, 
If  nobody  shirked 
And   each   one   worked 

To    help    his    fellows    along. 

Cease   wondering   why   you    came. 

Stop    looking   for   faults    and    flaws; 
Rise   up    to-day 
In    your    pride    and    say: 

"I  am   part   of   the   first   great   cause. 
However  full  the   world, 

There   is   room   for   an   earnest   man; 
It  had  need  of  me 
Or  I  would  not  be — 

I  am  here  to  strengthen  the  plan.'* 


f 

If  we  realize  that  we  should  not  be  in  this  world 
unless  there  were  room  and  a  function  for  each  one  of  us 
we  must  recognize  that  it  is  our  duty  as  it  is  also  our  high 
privilege    "to    strengthen    the    plan." 

How  can  we  puny  creatures  of  a  day  strengthen  the 
plan  that  concerns  the  world  of  ages?  Well,  "if  nobody 
shirked  and  each  one  worked"  in  his  own  little  corner, 
don't  you  suppose  there  would  be  a  great  difference  in  the 
world?  And  if  so,  then  to  the  proportionate  degree  will 
the  world  be  helped  and  brightened  if  you  as  an  individual 
do  what  you  can,  and  if  I  do  what  I  can  that  will  be  a 
little  more,  and  so  on.  You  are  not  responsible  for  doing 
my  share  as  well  as  your  own,  nor  am  I  to  be  held  ac- 
countable for  what  you  could  do,  besides  what  I  can,  but 
each  of  us  must  answer  for  what  we  as  individuals  can 
and  may  do. 

There  is  danger  of  our  having  too  high  a  conceit,  to 
be  sure,  of  ourselves  and  our  achievements;  but  there 
is  also  danger,  as  Mrs.  Wilcox  says,  of  "the  lack  of  a  high 
conceit."  There  is  danger  lest  we  forget  our  power  as 
individuals,  and  therefore  our  responsibility  and  duty. 

Our  sphere  is  wherever  we  happen  to  be  for  the  time 
being.  Our  mission  is  to  make  that  spot  "a  bit  more 
sweet,"  and  this  perhaps  ought  to  be  our  chief  worldly 
duty  and  concern.  If  along  with  the  daily  discharge  of 
this  duty  and  privilege  we  may  speculate  upon  our  origin, 
our  destiny  and  our  essential  nature,  so  much  the  better; 
it  will  help  us  to  high  aims  if  we  raise  our  eyes  to  high 
destiny,  and  realize  the  essence  of  divine  grandeur  that 
lies  in  human  life  and  character.  But  it  is  well  if  we 
remember  the  possibilities  and  opportunities  of  helpful- 
ness and  cheer  that  lie  about  our  feet — if  we  "do  the  next 
thing." 


Don't   See   The   Blots 


A  PRETTY  and  pathetic  story  is  told,  with  suitable 
application,  by  a  Nashville  paper,  to  the  following 
effect:  A  father,  on  coming  home  one  evening 
tired  and  somewhat  dispirited,  was  approached  by  his 
little  daughter  with  her  copy  book,  which  she  had  just 
finished  writing.  It  being  her  first,  her  young  face  was 
reddened  with  a  beautiful  and  honest  flush,  as  she  was 
sure  of  receiving  some  word  of  praise  and  cheer  for  her 
hard  attempt.  The  pages  were  indeed  neatly  written, 
and  her  father  told  her  how  well  pleased  he  was  to  see 
how  careful  she  had  been.  Presently  coming  to  one  page 
which  had  two  small  blots,  the  little  girl  laid  her  little 
hand  upon  them,  and  artlessly  looking  up  into  her  father's 
face  said:  "Papa,  don't  see  the  blots!"  Of  course  he  did 
not,  but  bent  down  and  planted  a  kiss  on  the  little  fore- 
head, and  felt  thankful  for  the  lesson  he  had  learned. 
He  thus  expressed  his  reflections: 

''How  precious  it  would  be  if,  amid  all  the  nameless 
strifes  and  discords  which  so  fret  and  chafe  us,  we  would 
just  lay  the  finger  on  the  sullied  page  of  human  lives  and 
not  'see  the  blots.'  When  littlenesses  and  meanesses  and 
.petty  oppositions  annoy  and  vex  us,  if  we  could  only 
look  away  from  these  to  some  brighter  pages!'* 

In  our  own  case  we  are  thankful  and  relieved  when 
some  one  whose  right  it  is  to  inspect  our  work  kindly 
overlooks  the  blots.  So  in  our  dealings  with  others  we 
should  remember  what  has  caused  us  to  be  glad,  and 
turn  away  our  eyes  from  those  little  imperfections  that 
have  come  into  the  best-intentioned  work.  How  much 
happier  the  day  is  when  that  is  the  guiding  and  govern- 
ing principle  in  our  relations  with  our  fellow  men.  So 
our  aim  to  give  and  get  happiness  may  be  the  nearer 
attained  by  the  judicious  looking  away  from  the  blots. 

In  fact,  the  disposition  to  look  at  the  blots  is  one 
which  is  sure  to  spoil  life  for  ourselves  and  for  others. 


Paying  much  attention  to  what  is  defective  one  comes 
to  see  little  else,  as  it  is  said  of  those  men  whose  bus- 
iness it  is  to  examine  the  coins  as  they  are  struck  off 
in  the  mint  to  detect  flaws — they  come  to  be  able  to  see 
imperfections  where  no  one  else  could  perceive  them. 
So  the  fault-finder  fails  to  get  pleasure  from  anything 
because  he  sees  the  blots. 

But  human  nature  is  bound  to  be  faulty  and  imperfect. 
The  motive  may  be  the  purest,  the  intention  all  right  and 
good,  but  the  act  nevertheless  may  have  some  aspect  that 
another  person  looking  on  may  find  fault  with  and  con- 
demn. A  charitableness  in  judgment  is  always  wise;  it 
is  well  to  steady  oneself  before  pronouncing  adversely 
on  any  fellow  being,  for  fear  that  the  surface  appearance 
may  not  truly  express  the  real  significance  of  the  action. 
There  will  be  some  blots  here  and  there  on  the  other- 
wise fair  copy  book  of  life.  It  is  the  part  of  a  kind 
and  wise  spirit  to  pass  the  hand  over  the  blots  and  see 
rather  what   is  worthy  of  commendation. 


Folly   of  Fretting 


AN  Eastern  exchange  tells  a  story  of  how  a  house- 
keeper had  been  able  to  overcome  the  habit  of 
fretting  over  little  accidents  and  worries.  Per- 
haps more  real  evil  comes  from  worrying  over  small 
troubles  than  befalls  one  in  the  way  of  great  disasters. 
It  is  helpful,  therefore,  to  strive  to  impress  upon  our- 
selves the  folly  and  wrong  of  fret  by  recalling  the  ex- 
ample of  those  who  have  actually  conquered  it. 

While  the  woman  in  question  was  talking  with  a  vis- 
itor, the  young  servant  appeared  with  a  broken  dish  and 
a  tearful  explanation  that  it  "slipped  right  out  of  her 
hands.'*  The  lady  had  heard  the  crash,  but  had  sat  un- 
moved, and  continued  conversing  quietly  with  her  friend, 
much  to  the  amazement  of  the  latter,  who  expected  to 
see  her  run  out  to  the  kitchen  to  find  out  what  was  the 
matter.  Nor  did  she  chide  the  girl,  but  rather  sought 
to  comfort  her.  To  the  friend's  wondering  questions, 
she  explained  the  course  of  training  by  which  she  had 
learned  not  to  worry  over  things  she  couldn't  help.  The 
piece  was  the  largest  of  a  fine  dinner  set  given  her  by 
her  dear  old  Aunt  Rachael,  and  she  did  not  expect  to 
match  it,  nor  could  she  afford  to  buy  a  new  set  of  dishes 
every  day,  and  it  was  that  same  aunt  who  had  when  she 
was  much  younger  and  was  very  much  given  to  fretting 
over  small  annoyances  cured  her  by  a  vigorous  admin- 
istration of  the  good  old  advice  that  we  may  all  hear  or 
read  any  day  of  our  life. 

"Don't  fret;  it  is  thankless,  rebellious,  and  utterly 
useless,  never  does  a  bit  of  good,  and  always  does  harm." 
She  had  heard  this  counsel  but  had  not  acted  on  it. 
Shortly  after  marriage,  having  got  past  the  time  when 
almost  all  young  people  are  usually  happy  and  pleased 
over  everything,  her  habit  of  worrying  over  trifles  began 
to  blot  here  and  there  the  home  life,  and  any  petty  mis- 
hap caused  her  deep  trouble.     But  when  real  trouble  at 


last  came,  in  the  serious  sickness  of  their  baby,  followed 
as  soon  as  the  little  one  recovered  by  a  long  illness  of  her 
own,  she  began  to  put  into  practice  the  good  resolution 
formed  when  in  the  deep  valley  of  trouble,  that  she 
would  not  again  allow  herself  to  be  moved  by  small 
troubles.  The  sight  of  the  parlor  carpet  moth-eaten  at 
the  edges,  as  it  had  become  during  her  illness,  broke 
down  her  resolution,  but  in  the  midst  of  it  came  her  old 
aunt.  With  her  quiet,  peaceful  words  she  brought  back 
the  younger  woman  to  a  state  of  calm,  and  to  the  re- 
marks that  the  knowledge  that  those  bad  places  were 
there,  even  if  they  did  not  show  much,  would  take  away 
her  peace  of  mind,  the  old  lady  replied:  "Thy  peace  of 
mind  is  worth  little  to  thee  or  to  any  one  else  if  it  can 
be  so  easily  broken.  Ruth  Morrison,  thee  is  starting 
out  in  life;  beware  that  thy  disposition  to  fret  about 
small  things  does  not  prove  a  curse.  Every  thought  of 
discontent  about  matters  beyond  thy  control  is  not  only 
a  sin  against  God,  but  a  sin  against  thy  own  soul."  And 
reminded  her  that  every  fretful  thought  wasted  on  small 
accidents  is  only  so  much  added  to  their  burden.  It  only 
made  the  matter  worse  to  vex  her  soul  over  a  mishap. 

Life's  burdens  are  surely  heavy  enough  without  any 
addition  of  worry.  If  we  persistently  refrain  from  fret- 
ting over  small  things,  we  have  all  the  more  strength 
of  patience  and  fortitude  to  bear  the  really  great  troubles. 
If  we  do  not  let  little  things  disturb  our  equanimity,  we 
shall  be  the  less  moved  by  the  real  misfortunes. 


True    Politeness 


THERE  is  little  that  is  more  effective  in  brightening 
the  world  of  humanity  than  politeness  in  social 
intercourse.  Lord  Chesterfield,  who  is  commonly 
considered  as  having  been  one  of  the  most  polished  of 
men,  defined  true  politeness  as  perfect  ease  and  freedom, 
and  as  simply  consisting  in  treating  others  just  as  you 
love  to  be  treated  yourself.  It  is  in  other  words  the  appli- 
cation in  daily  life  of  that  rule  of  conduct  which  is  truly 
called  golden.  Someone  has  compared  it  to  an  air  cushion: 
"There  may  be  nothing  in  it,  but  it  eases  our  jolts  wonder- 
fully." And  yet  there  is  no  real  antagonism  between  po- 
liteness and  sincerity,  for  in  its  proper  understanding 
politeness  is  "the  graceful  expression  of  respect,  kind  feel- 
ing and  good  will."    J.  T.  Fields  says  of  it: 

How  sweet  and  gracious,  even  in  common  speech, 
Is  that  fine  sense  which  men  call  courtesy! 
Wliolesome  as  air  and  genial  as  the  light, 
Welcome   in   every   clime   as   breath   of   flowers — 
It    transmutes    aliens    into   trusting   friends. 
And  gives  its  owner  passport  round  the  globe. 

There  is  a  great  deal  in  the  way  a  thing  is  done.    There 

is  mention  made  somewhere  of  one  who 

Kicked  them  down  stairs  with  such  very  fine  grace, 
They  thought  he  was  handing  them  up. 

A  kindly  answer,  even  though  it  be  a  denial,  is  often 
more  agreeable  than  a  rude  acquiescence,  or  a  careless 
granting  of  a  request.  Lord  Chesterfield  told  his  son,  "It 
is  better  to  return  a  dropped  fan  genteelly  than  to  give 
a  thousand  pounds  awkwardly;  you  had  better  refuse  a 
favor  gracefully  than  grant  it  clumsily.  All  your  Greek 
can  never  advance  you  from  secretary  to  envoy,  or  from 
envoy  to  ambassador,  but  your  address,  your  air,  your 
manner,  if  good,  may." 

Seeing,  then,  that  this  quality  has  been  so  highly 
esteemed  by  many  of  those  most  competent  to  judge  of 
the  necessary  qualities  of  social  ease  and  good  breeding, 
it  becomes   of  great   importance  that   we   cultivate   it,  to 


the  end  that  we  may  make  those  about  us  feel  at  ease,  and 
may  move  in  an  atmosphere  of  kindliness,  gentleness  and 
happiness. 

"But,"  says  some  one,  ''it  is  surely  not  necessary  to  be 
on  one's  best  behavior  at  all  times,  one  does  not  need 
to  wear  company  manners  at  home  or  in  the  office,  the 
factory,  the  store,  with  those  with  whom  one  is  in  constant 
association;  is  that  not  in  danger  of  becoming  affectation?" 
Listen  to  what  the  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table  has  to 
sav  on  this  point: 

"Don't  flatter  yourself  that  friendship  authorizes  you 
to  say  disagreeable  things  to  your  intimates.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  nearer  you  come  into  relation  with  a  person 
the  more  necessary  do  tact  and  courtesy  become.  Except 
in  cases  of  necessity,  which  are  rare,  leave  your  friend 
to  learn  unpleasant  truths  from  his  enemies;  they  are 
ready  enough  to  tell  him.  Good  breeding  never  forgets 
that  amour-propre  is  universal." 


The   Golden   Age 


•  />^^vUR  golden  age  lies  before  us,  and  not  behind." 
f  I  This  was  the  cheerful  motto  of  one  who  early 
^^^^  began  the  practice  of  that  bright  philosophy  of 
life,  and  through  long  years  pursued  his  course  evenly  and 
with  marked  distinction  to  a  position  high  in  the  esteem 
of  his  fellow  men,  and  eminent  in  the  educational  world. 
I  refer  to  the  late  Sir  Daniel  Wilson,  whose  researches  in 
history  and  in  the  study  of  prehistoric  man,  and  almost 
equally  his  devotion  to  art,  especially  architecture,  have 
made  his  name  justly  celebrated  not  only  in  his  native 
Scotland,  but  also  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

This  old  man,  with  a  lifetime  of  achievement  behind 
him,  and  in  full  appreciation  of  the  value  of  those  histories 
of  the  ''brave  days  of  old,"  into  which  he  loved  so  well  to 
delve,  yet  gave  me  once  as  the  best  thought  he  could  instil 
into  a  young  man's  mind,  the  little  gem  quoted  at  the  be- 
ginning of  this  article,  "Our  golden  age  lies  before  us,  and 
not  behind."  If  that  be  true —  and  who  can  successfully 
dispute  it? — why  should  our  faces  not  be  bright  as  the 
morning,  since  we  face  a  more  glorious  dawn  than  any 
we  have  yet  seen?  Why  should  we  lament  the  decadence 
of  manners  and  men,  the  decline  of  society  from  the 
standards  of  the  past?  Is  not  the  world  progressing? 
When  the  tide  is  coming  in,  we  look  upon  a  wave  as 
it  rolls  toward  the  shore;  we  watch  it  swell  steadily,  curl, 
break,  splash  upon  the  beach,  and  then — it  falls  suddenly 
down  and  back!  Is  the  sea  receding?  The  next  wave 
breaks  a  little  farther  up.  Possibly  the  third  is  one  of 
those  larger  swells  that  every  few  minutes  come  rolling 
in;  it  dashes  far  up  against  the  rocks;  so  that  the  next 
does  not  come  quite  so  far.  But  is  the  tide  yet  turning 
back?  No,  we  know  that  it  is  certainly  rising.  So  with 
human  affairs.  In  small  intervals  there  may  seem  to  be 
little  progress,  there  may  even  be  observable  some  slight 
retrograde   movement,  but   in   the   great   periods   of  time 


humanity's  tide  of  morality  and  of  happiness  has  been  ever 
advancing.     And  there  will  be  no  ebb. 

''What,"  says  one,  '*do  you  mean  to  declare  that  all 
the  cruel  v^^ars  and  oppressions  that  are  going  on  in  the 
world  today  mark  an  improvement  over  the  days  of  the 
past?"  Perhaps  not  in  individual  cases  and  in  small  peri- 
ods. But  the  best  answer  I  can  give  to  this  query  is  in 
the  words  of  a  stanza  by  Rev.  Leighton  Williams  in  Chris- 
tian Work,  which  I  read  reprinted  in  the  Boston  Budget 
a  short  while  ago: 

Slowly    the    thought   of   kindness    grows 

In   this   old  world  of  ours; 
Slowly  the  daylight   grows 

Out   of   the   dark   hours. 
Yet  surely  the  gentle  light 
Shall   conquer  the   realm   of  night; 
As   surely   the   reign  of  love  shall  sweep 
Over   the   turmoil   of  hatred   and   might. 

If  we  believe  this — and  why  should  we  not? — it  ought 

to   make    our   outlook   on    life    more   hopeful.      It    should 

enable   us   to   look   forward  with   greater   confidence   to   a 

golden  age  that  lies  ahead,  to  the   conquest  of  darkness 

and  its  powers  by  the  gentle  light  of  love,  whose  reign 

shall  terminate  the  turmoil  of  hate  and  of  might,  ushering 

in   that   day  foreseen   by  the   late   English  laureate,  "The 

federation  of  the  world,"  and  by  Scotland's  bard, 

"When  man  to  man,   the  whole  world  o'er, 
Shall  brithers  be,   for  a'   that." 

And  this  brighter  prospect  ahead  for  the  great  world 
at  large  ought  to  help  us  each  for  himself  or  herself,  to 
expect  and  to  hasten  a  better  day  in  our  own  little  world 
within  our  own  homes,  and  our  own  selves. 


Blessing   of  Toil 


IN  this  world  there  is  nothing  of  much  worth  that  is  not 
the  product  of  labor,  of  hard  toil.     The  realization  of 
this   truth   ought  to  make  us   the  more   content  with 
our  lot  if  it  is  a  toilsome  one,  and  the  more  free  to  admire 
the  toiler  in  whatever  line  of  effort  so  long  as  his  work 
be  honest  and  honorable. 

The  appreciation  of  the  meaning  of  work  is  something 
that  aids  greatly  in  the  enjoyment  of  life.  Look  at  the 
picture  George  Eliot  draws  of  Adam  Bede,  the  strong, 
hearty  workman,  whose  toil  was  his  delight.  What  a 
happy  man  he  was  as  he  did  his  daily  auty  in  his  shop. 
So  may  each  one  be  who  can  stand  "A  Test"  spoken  of  by 
Frank  Walcott  Hutt  iuca  poem  of  that  name,  which  reads 
thus : 

How  much  do  you  care,   my  earnest  lad — 

How   much   do   you   really   care 
For  the  honored  place   that  is  worth  the  race, 

As    those    that    have    won    declare? 
For    the    gold    of    life    in    the    vales    of   strife. 

For  hills  of  the  larger  view, 
Do  you  care  enough  that  the  smooth  or  rough 
Hold   ever   their   charms   for  you? 

How    much    do   you    care,    my    boy — enough 

To  master  the   little   fears? 
Do   you    dare    cry    halt    to    the    heedless    fault 

That   seeks   to  despoil   the   years? 
Then   you'll   lay   aside,    with   a   soldier's   pride. 

The   lure   of   the   laggard's   dream; 
For,   both  East  and  West,   it  is   toil  that's  best. 

As  hard  as  the  way  may  seem. 

It  is  true  that  the  laggard's  dream  is  a  lure  that  would 
draw  ofi  the  attention  of  man  from  his  warfare  with  the 
faults  that  would  seek  to  despoil  the  years.  Would  a 
man  gain  the  victory  over  the  forces  that  would  pull  him 
down  and  hinder  him  in  his  aspirations  after  great  achieve- 
ments he  must  never  give  heed  to  the  seductive  visions  of 
a  life  of  "dolce  far  niente,"  for  there  all  achievements 
would  cease;  all  aspirations  die  away. 

Nor  indeed  would  such  a  life  of  idleness  be  a  pleasur- 
able one.    We  all  feel  happier  when  we  are  active.     Noth- 


ing  is  more  irksome  to  the  person  of  average,  normal 
constitution  than  the  enforced  inactivity  occasioned,  for 
example,  by  illness.  The  one  who  is  content  with  a  lazy 
life  either  has  never  developed  to  manly  stature  in  charac- 
ter or  has  deteriorated. 

In  certain  senses,  therefore,  the  advice  contained  in 
the  following  lines,  handed  to  me  a  couple  of  days  ago 
by  a  friend,  to  pass  on  to  others  in  this  way,  is  such  as 
appeals  in  its  wisdom  to  every  true  man  and  woman: 

Question   not,    but   live    and   labor 

Till    your    goal    be    won. 
Helping    every    feeble    neighbor, 

Seeking  help  from  none; 
Life   is   mostly   froth   and  bubble, 

Two    things   stand   like   stone — 
Kindness   in   another's   trouble, 

Courage  in  your  own. 

In  one  sense  it  is  nobler  to  be  independent,  "seeking 
help  from  none,"  but  in  another  it  is  certainly  wise  to  seek 
to  gain  by  every  acquaintance  or  chance  meeting.  As  is 
often  remarked,  we  are  always  learning  and  "it  is  never 
too  old  to  learn";  we  gain  help  from  one  another  on  every 
hand  each  day  if  we  are  on  the  lookout  for  it,  and  it 
would  seem  the  part  of  wisdom  to  seek  help  in  that  way 
from  others.  Yet  the  manly,  womanly,  self-reliance  that 
tries  to  do  all  that  is  possible  independently  of  others  is 
bound  to  accomplish  more  than  the  puny,  leaning  depend- 
ence that  is  afraid  to  stand  alone  for  fear  it  may  fall. 


Worth   of  The   Commonplace 


STRICKLAND  W.  GILULAN  is  a  writer  who  has 
produced  not  a  few  gems  of  the  same  dainty  com- 
pleteness as  the  one  here  quoted,  which,  though  it 
appeared  in  Success  several  months  ago,  is  yet  in  my  esti- 
mation worth  repeating  not  once  but  many  times;  and 
others,  judging  from  what  I  have  read,  have  the  same 
appreciation  of  it.    The  title  is  "Sources,"  and  it  runs: 

I  passed  a  stagnant  marsh  that  lay- 
Beneath   a   reeking   scum    of   green, 

A  loathsome  puddle  by  the  way; 
No  sorrier  pool  was  ever  seen. 

I   thought:      "How   lost   to   all   things   pure 
And   clean  and   white   those   foul  depths   be." — 

Next    day    from    out    that    pond    obscure 
Two   queenly   lilies   laughed   at   me. 

I   passed   a   hovel    'round   whose   door 

The    signs    of    penury    were    strewn; 
I    saw    the    grimed    and    littered    floor. 

The   walls    of   logs    from   tree-trunks   hewn. 
I   said:      "The   gates    of   life   are   shut 

To    those    within    that    wretched    pen"; 
But   lo!    from   out   that   lowly   hut 

Came    one    to   rule    the   world   of   men. 

So  when  we  are  prone  to  think  with  the  author  of  these 
lines,  like  the  surprised  Nathaniel,  that  no  good  or  beauti- 
ful thing  can  come  out  of  the  humble  and  obscure  places, 
we  have  sometimes  to  ''come  and  see"  that  out  of  such 
unpromising  sources  arise  blooms  of  beauty  and  streams 
of  power  that  spread  their  influence  over  a  world. 

There  is  danger,  too,  lest  we  overlook  the  fact  that  the 
great  majority  of  people,  as  of  natural  objects,  have  no 
particular  distinction,  but  are  just  common,  everyday 
specimens.  It  is  the  ordinary  kind  of  apples  that  satisfies 
the  world's  demand  for  apples,  and  it  is  the  ordinary  kind 
of  man  that  does  the  world's  work — though  it  is  granted 
that  the  extraordinary  man  is  the  leader  in  thought  and 
action,  yet  he  cannot  do  much  without  his  undistinguished 
brother. 

It  thus  becomes  apparent  that  "the  common  herd"  not 


only  may  be  the  "source"  of  "one  to  rule  the  world  of 
men,"  but  also  is  the  element  of  essential  value  for  the 
completion  of  any  work  of  men.  The  same  author  from 
whom  the  above  lines  were  quoted  has  written  a  very 
appreciative  poem  on  this  very  subject,  which  is  here  re- 
produced from  the  Baltimore  American: 

"The  common  herd" — God  bless  us,  every  one! 
We   common  folk  who   toll  from   sun  to  sun; 
We    who    our    brother's    hardships    understand, 
Nor   strive    to   hide    the   callous    on   each   hand; 
We  who  in  countless  thousands  throng  the  street. 
Oft   silent   though   in  sympathy   we   greet; 
Without  our  help  what  great  thing  has  been  done? 
"The  common  herd," — God  bless  us,  every  one! 

"The  common  herd," — that  flinches  not  from  toil 
Through  freezing  winters  when  the  summers  broil; 
That  bravely  treads  its  round  from  day  to  day, 
And  clothes   and  feeds  itself  on  meager  pay; 
That  comes  more  near  content  than  they  who  boast 
A   daily   income   that   would  feed   a  host; 
That  sweetly  sleeps  when  each  day's  toil  is  done — 
"The  common  herd," — God  bless  us,  every  one! 


Unselfish    Kindness 


A  FRIEND  who  has  seen  many  a  day  of  brightness, 
and  also  without  doubt  some  days  of  shadow — 
for  who  that  passes  very  far  along  the  way  of  life 
does  not  find  the  mingling? — but  who  throughout  a  length- 
ened life  has  preserved  the  happy  spirit  that  looks  ever  for 
the  silver  lining  of  the  cloud  and  makes  others  cheerful  by 
the  m'ere  aspect  of  his  countenance,  gave  me  the  following 
lines  a  few  days  ago,  as  his  own  sentiments,  and  a  suitable 
motto  for  this  department: 

"If  I   can  let  into  some   soul  a  little  light, 
If  I  some  pathway  dark  and  drear  can  render  bright. 
If  I   to  one   in  gloom   can  show   the  sunny   side, 
Though  no  reward  I  win,   I  shall  be  satisfied." 

It  is  this  thought  of  helpfulness  without  regard  to  any 
prospect  of  reward  or  the  lack  of  it  that  alone  makes  the 
effort  worth  making,  either  for  the  one  who  makes  it,  or 
for  the  one  in  whose  behalf  it  may  be  made.  Otherwise 
it  becomes  perfunctory  and  ineffective. 

The  motto  of  work  for  work's  sake  is  a  good  one  to 

help    make    one    cheerful.      The    Roycrofters    enjoy    their 

work  and  live  happy  lives  by  reason  of  their  following  out 

that  idea.     Just  in  the  same  way  we  might  take  it  as  a 

good  working  rule  to  be  cheerful  for  cheerfulness'  sake. 

That  is  the  surest  way  to  really  enjoy  life  oneself,  and 

also  the  best  way  to  exert  a  helpful,  cheering  influence 

upon  one's  neighbors. 

"Laugh,    and   the   world   laughs   with   you. 
Weep,    and   you    weep    alone; 

For  this  sad  old  earth  has  to  borrow  its  mirth — 
It   has   sorrow   enough   of   its   own." 

Or,  as  a  hymn  puts  it,  "Go,  bury  thy  sorrow,  the  world 
hath  its  share — go,  give  them  the  sunshine."  It  is  useless 
to  depend  upon  the  w^orld  for  sympathy  in  trouble — though 
it  would  be  no  doubt  unjust  to  charge  the  world  with 
being  utterly  heartless:  yet  it  remains  true  that  others 
are  more  susceptible  to  our  joyous  moods  than  to  our 
sad   ones. 


And  one  is  likely  to  get  paid  back  in  one's  own  coin, 
too.  Whining  and  complaining  over  one's  misfortunes  will 
bring  only  misery  and  complaining  in  response  to  any 
future  appeal  for  sympathy.  A  cheery  word  to  a  down- 
cast brother  will  be  returned  with  interest  some  day  when 
one's  own  spirits  are  drooping,  and  the  seed  sown,  the 
l)read  cast  on  the  waters,  is  found  after  many  days. 

"Be  kind,   is  the  way  to  get  kindness — 

If   not,    what's   the   use   of   regret? 
Rail   not   at   this    world   for   its   blindness, 

But   pity,    forgive,    and   forget." 

There's  the  key  to  a  philosophy  that  has  been  tried  and 
not  found  wanting,  but  which  has  enabled  many  an  old 
pilgrim  on  life's  highway  to  travel  along  with  firm,  buoy- 
ant step,  till  the  foot  of  the  hill  is  reached,  and  in  the 
evening  he  lies  down  to  pleasant  sleep. 


Sociability  An   Instinct 


^^'W'T  is  not  good  that  the  man  should  be  alone/'  Such 
I   were   the   words   of  the   Creator   at  the  beginning. 

-^  And  how  their  truth  is  every  day  shown  forth.  Man 
left  to  himself  becomes  morose  and  savage,  declines  to 
the  level  of  the  brute.  Man  is  a  social  animal.  Even 
misery  likes  company.  And  how  true  it  is  that  we  halve 
sorrows  by  sharing  them,  and  by  the  same  means  double 
our  joys. 

The  sociable  instinct  in  man  is  God-given,  and,  there- 
fore, is  to  be  cultivated.  Let  us  cultivate  sociability  by 
speaking  the  kindly  word  of  sym^pathy,  offering  delicately 
our  help  to  our  neighbor  in  need,  giving  the  hand  of  fellow- 
ship to  our  brother  man,  our  sister  woman,  and  thus  carry 
out  the  Golden  Rule. 

The  daily  walk  of  life  is  brightened  by  the  word,  the 
hand-grasp,  the  smile  of  another  soul.  The  joys  we  feel 
are  enhanced  by  our  friend's  entering  heartily  into  our 
joy.  And  it  is  our  duty  to  ofifer  our  sincere  tribute  of 
friendship's  congratulation  to  our  friends.  We  need  not 
expect  to  find  others  cheering  us  with  bright  w^ords  of 
sympathetic  joy  unless  we,  too,  show  the  same  feeling. 

Any  woes,  too,  that  oppress  us — how  they  are  light- 
ened by  a  kindly  glance  and  a  word  of  compassion,  of  com- 
miseration, of  genuine  sympathy.  Here,  too,  such  actions 
are  but  the  due  of  humanity;  due  from  others  to  us,  and 
equally  due  to  others  from  us.  We  must  not  be  selfish  if 
we  would  enjoy  life. 

The  story  is  told  of  a  man,  staying  over  night  at  an 
inn,  being  asked  by  the  landlord  where  he  came  from,  and 
what  kind  of  neighbors  he  had.  To  the  latter  question  he 
replied:  "Oh,  I  had  very  disagreeable  neighbors.  I  could 
not  get  along  well  with  them  at  all."  "You  will  find  just 
the  samie  sort  of  neighbors  where  you  are  going," 
answered  the  innkeeper.  Another  man  from  the  same 
town,  and  bound  for   the   same   place   as   the  other,  was 


asked  the  same  question.  He  said:  "I  had  very  good 
neighbors;  they  were  kind  and  agreeable/'  "You  will  find 
your  new  neighbors  just  the  same,"  said  the  landlord. 
Being  asked  by  the  first  man  how  that  could  be,  he  replied 
that  the  secret  of  good  or  bad  neighbors  lay  in  the  man 
himself  more  than  in  his  neighbors. 

So,  a  man  who  would  have  friends  must  show  himself 
friendly.  Friendship,  as  Coleridge  called  it,  is  a  shel- 
tering tree.  And  the  charm  of  friendship  lies  in  its 
sympathy,  in  its  sharing  the  mlerriment  and  the  weari- 
ness of  life's  daily  paths.  The  retiring  Moderator  of  the 
Presbyterian  General  Assembly  of  the  United  States,  Dr. 
Henry  Van  Dyke,  has  given  a  beautiful  expression  to 
this  thought  in  the  following  lines: 

Oh,   who  will  walk  a  mile   with   me 

Along   life's    merry   way? 
A   comrade   blithe   and   full   of   glee, 
Who   dares   to   laugh   out   loud   and  free, 

And  let  his   frolic  fancy  play. 

Like   a   happy    child,    through    the    flowers    gay 

That  fill  the  field  and  fringe  the  way, 
Where   he   walks    a   m^ile   with   me. 

And  who  will  walk   a  mile  with  me 
Along  life's   weary  way? 

A   friend   whose   heart   has    eyes   to   see 

The  stars  shine  out  o'er  the  darkening  lea, 
And  the  quiet  rest  at  the  end  of  the  day — 
A  friend  who  knows,   and  dares   to  say, 
The  brave,  sweet  words  that  cheer  the  way 

Where   he   walks    a   mile   with   me. 

With  such  a  comrade,  such  a  friend, 
I  fain  would  walk   till  journeys   end. 
Through    summer    sunshine,    winter    rain, 
And  then?    Farewell,  we  shall  meet  again! 


Catch   The   Upper   Currents 


WHAT    better    expression    of   true    wealth    can    be 
found   than   these   lines   by    I   know   not   whom, 
but   echoing  the  sentiments   of  some   of  Shake- 
speare's sonnets: 

The   heart    it   hath    its    own    estate, 
The    mind   it   hath    its    wealth   untold; 

It   needs   not   fortune   to   be   great, 
While    there's    a    coin    surpassing    gold. 

No   matter   which   way   fortune   leans, 
Wealth  makes  not  happiness  secure; 

A    little    mind   hath    little    means, 
A  narrow  heart  is  always  poor. 

'Tis   not   the   house  that  honor  makes, 

True  honor  is  a  thing  divine; 
It    is    the    mind    precedence    takes. 

It   is   the  spirit  makes   the  shrine. 

It  is  the  attitude  of  mind,  therefore,  that  determines 
the  true  wealth  of  the  possessor.  And  it  is  the  mental 
temper  and  disposition  that  must  be  cultivated  to 
enable  the  person  to  realize  his  wealth.  In  one  of  his 
inspiring  talks  to  the  Harvard  students.  Dr.  Peabody 
pictured  a  vessel  lying  becalmed  on  a  glassy  sea.  Not 
a  breath  of  air  stirs  a  sail.  But  presently  the  patiently 
watching  sailors  notice  that  the  little  pennant  far  up  on 
the  masthead  begins  to  stir  and  lift.  There  is  not  a 
ripple  on  the  water,  nor  the  slightest  movement  of  the 
air  on  the  deck;  but  the  men  know  that  there  is  a  cur- 
rent stirring  in  the  upper  air,  and  at  once  they  spread 
their  upper  sails  to  catch  it.  The  vessel  instantly  begins 
to  move  under  the  impulse  of  the  higher  currents,  while 
at  the  surface  of  the  water  there  is  still  a  dead  calm. 

So  in  life,  says  J.  R.  Miller,  who  uses  the  anecdote, 
there  are  higher  and  lower  currents.  Too  many  of  us 
use  only  the  lower  sails,  and  catch  only  the  winds  blow- 
ing along  earthly  levels.  But  there  are  also  winds  which 
blow  down  from  the  mountains  of  God,  and  it  would  be 
an  unspeakable  gain  to  us  all  were  we  to  let  our  life 
fall    under    the    influence    of   these    upper    currents.      We 


0: 


should  be  wise  to  so  adjust  our  relations  with  others 
that  we  should  all  our  days  be  under  the  influence  of 
the  good,  the  worthy,  the  pure-hearted,  the  heavenly. 

Our  lives  in  their  general  trend  and  color  are  largely 
under  our  own  control.  We  can  determine  the  influences 
under  which  they  shall  be  moved  and  moulded.  We  can, 
for  example,  cultivate  the  habit  of  calmness  and  avoid 
harmful  indulgence,  evil  in  its  effects  upon  others  and 
upon  ourselves,  and  as  prejudicial  to  health  of  mind  and 
body  as  overeating,  or  violence  of  temper,  or  scandal- 
mongering.  We  belittle  life,  when  w^e  magnify  little 
evils  and  troubles,  giving  them  a  distorted  importance, 
out  of  all  proportion  to  the  actual  things  of  value  in 
life.  To  those  involved  in  such  tempests  in  teapots  the 
effect  is  one  of  misery,  while  to  the  outside  observers 
it   is  Judicrous. 

The  Woman's  Home  Companion,  speaking  of  this 
matter,  suggests  that  to  be  happy  one  should  look  at 
the  troubles  of  life  as  through  the  large  end  of  an  opera 
glass,  thus  diminishing  them  and  making  them  appear 
far  away;  while  the  pleasant  things  we  should  look  at 
through  the  small  end,  magnifying  them  and  bringing  them 
nearer  to  us. 

"We  are  so  impatient  of  discomfort  of  any  sort," 
says  Forward,  "that  we  run  here  and  there  in  search 
of  remiedies  for  troubles  that  would  heal  themselves 
with  a  little  wholesome  letting  alone.  Half  the  worries 
that  spoil  the  day  and  make  restless  nights,  half  the 
dangers  that  we  foresee  for  ourselves  or  our  loved  ones, 
half  the  changed  demeanor  in  friends  over  which  we 
grieve,  are  imaginary,  or  but  flitting  clouds  that  will  pass 
with  a  little  time.  There  is  wondrous  healing  in  rest 
and  patience,  and  a  depth  of  meaning  we  have  never  yet 
fathomed  in  the  words  of  the  prophet,  In  quietness  and 
confidence  shall  be  your  strength.'  " 

Oh,  for  more  recognition  of  the  value  of  calmness 
and  deliberation,  of  "quietness  and  confidence"  in  these 
days  of  hurry  and   worry! 


Meditation 


IT  is  said  that  bees  can  work  best  in  darkness,  but 
whether  or  not  this  be  true  it  is  unquestionably  the 
case  that  men  and  women  can  extract  the  honey  from 
the  flowers  of  life  and  build  it  into  the  food  of  their 
inner  lives  best  in  the  quietness  of  meditative  moments, 
and  not  in  the  hurly-burly  of  rushing  everyday  business. 

In  order  to  the  development  of  character  it  is  neces- 
sary to  employ  one's  leisure  time  to  a  greater  or  less 
extent  to  the  contemplation  of  one's  own  nature  and  dis- 
position, to  the  purpose  of  life  and  to  one's  own  attitude 
towards  that  purpose.  We  need  to  ask  ourselves  the 
question,  What  am  I  here  for  anyway?  An  honest  facing 
of  that  question  for  five  minutes  alone  with  one's  own 
thoughts  will  often  turn  the  whole  course  of  a  man's  or 
woman's  life,  particularly  a  young  person's,  for  it  is  then 
that  one  realizes  at  once  the  seriousness  of  life  and  the 
grandeur  of  its  possibilities. 

What  connection  has  the  seriousness  of  life  with  the 
"Brighter  Side,"  some  one  may  ask.  Well,  it  is  the 
people  who  have  most  thoroughly  faced  life's  meaning 
who  see  most  clearly  that  the  world  is  moving  forward 
to  a  better  and  happier  day,  and  that  life  has  more  of 
gladness  in  it  that  of  sadness  if  we  but  take  it  aright. 

But  to  realize  this  truth  one  must  frequently  come 
close  to  nature  and  to  one's  own  inner  aims  and  pur- 
poses. One  must  get  away,  if  only  for  a  few  moments, 
two  or  three  times  a  day,  from  the  worries  and  cares 
of  daily  business,  the  pressure  of  daily  work,  the  demands 
of  society,  in  whatever  form  presented,  yes,  even  the 
claims  of  friends  and  family, — and  commune  with  one's 
own  heart  silently  and  alone.  This  is  a  source  of  re- 
freshment of  spirit,  nerving  the  soul  to  the  tasks  ahead, 
and  more  than  compensating  in  vigor  and  energy  for 
the  time  snatched  or  "made"  to  accomplish  the  retreat 
from    more    active   employment    of   one's    hour.=;. 


In   this   connection   I    would   introduce  a  little   poem 
from   the   "Household,"   called 


A   Legend 


There  has   come   to  my   mind  a  legend, 

A   thing  I   had  half  forgot, 
And  whether  I  read  it  or  dreamed  it. 

Ah,   well,    it   matters   not. 
It   is   said  that   in  heaven   at  twilight 

A   great   bell  softly   swings, 
And    man    may    listen    and    hearken 

To  the  wonderful   music   that   rings. 
If   he   puts    from   his   heart's    inner   chamber 

All   the   passion,    pain   and   strife. 
Heartaches    and    weary    longings 

That   throb   in   the   pulses   of   life; 
If  he   thrusts   from   his   soul  all  hatred. 

All   thoughts    of   wicked   things, 
He  can  hear   in  the  holy   twilight 

How    the   bell   of   the    angels    rings. 
And   I   think   there   is   in   this   legend, 

If  we   open   our  eyes   to  see. 
Somewhat  of  an  inner  meaning, 

My  friend,  to  you  and  me; 
Let  us  look  in  our  hearts  and  question, 

"Can  pure  thought  enter  in 
To  a  soul  if  it  be  already 

The  dwelling  of  thoughts  of  sin?" 
So,   then,   let  us  ponder  a  little. 

Let   us    look   in   our   hearts,    and   see 
If  the  twilight  bell  of  the  angels 

Could    ring   for   you    and    me. 


f 


VM1VER8ITY 


UNIVEESITY  OF  CALIFORNIA   LIBEARY 
BERKELEY 


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MAh  31 1917 


50m-7.'16 


XB  27873 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  UBRARY 


